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>N 


AKD-HomF: 

A 

coTv^  PL-ere 

HOUSEWIFE’S  GUIDE 


BV 

Marion  Haroakd. 


“God  help  us  on  the  Common  Days, 

The  level  stretches,  white  with  dust!” 

Margarrt  K.  vSangstkr- 


. \)9ith  ©pigir^al  ©rpgpavirpg§, 

EV 

h.  A.  SHAFER,  WALTER  SATTERLEE,  RUE  & IIOELFFLER,  B.  G.  GOODLINE, 
WILL  PHILLIP  HOOPER  and  F.  L.  V.  HOPPIN. 


P.  W.  ZIEGLER  & CO., 

PHILADELPHIA,  PA.  , ST.  LOUIS,  MO, 


Copyrighted  by 

MARY  VIRGINIA  TERHUNE, 
' 1889. 


House  and  Home. 


coisnTKiNnrs. 

»A»E. 

The  Housekeeper  and  the  Home-Maker  . . • ' ii 

Every  House  has  a Keeper. — Exception. — Lowest  Form  of  Human  Living. — The 
Model  Housekeeper. — Her  Four  Utensils. — Supererogatory  Works  of  Cleanliness. 
—Is  Her  Life  Worth  Living  ? — Keeping  House  not  Wisely,  but  Too  Well. — The 
“ Nasty-Particular  ” Housewife. — “ My  House  ” and  “ Our  Home.’* 


If  NOT  Straw — Stubble 17 

The  Esthetic  Craze,  and  its  Eifects  upon  American  Homes. — Respectable  “Specimens’ 
of  Our  Homes. — The  Substantial  Three-Story-Brick,  and  How  it  is  Furnished. — 
Honest  John’s  Views  on  the  Subject. — Husbandly  and  Wifely  Conferences, 
anent  Changes. — The  Quiet-Eyed  Woman  who  Loves  Beauty. — Modern  Manuals. 
— “ There  is  No  Use  Trying.’’ — The  Back-Parlor. — Mortuary  Memorial  Mantel. — 
Fire-Place. — Mantel  Shelves. — Book  Shelves. — Japanese  Drapery  and  Family 
Portraits. — Reading-Table  and  Lamp. — Pillows,  Cushions  and  afghan. — Resting- 
Place. — Curtains,  Easels,  and  Palm. — The  Old  Arm-Chair. — The  PRESENCE. — 
Reconciliation  of  Carpet  and  Wall-Paper.  — “Strengthen  the  Things  that 
Remain.**— The  Front-Room. — Hints  Few  and  Feasible. — Live  in  Your  Rooms, 


The  Dining-Room,  Meals  and  Serving  . . . . 33 

Ingenious  Architect’s  Utopian  Plan. — Why  He  Failed. — The  Genteel  Tank  in  which 
People  Eat. — Disadvantage. — Make  the  Best  of  what  is. — A Meal  a Graceful 
Ceremony. — The  Dumb  Man’s  Visible  Thought. — Hard  and  Homely  Lives. — 
The  Discouraged  House-Mother. — Baron  Trenck’s  Etched  Pannikins.— Jane 
Welsh  Carlyle. — “ Waiting  for  a Rise.’’ — The  Table.— Care  of  and  Respect  for 
Dainty  Wares. — Living  up  to  the  Old  Blue  Teapot. — ^Decorous  Serving  and 
Waiting.— How  “ Father  ’’  Carves  and  Helps. — Major  Trencher  and  Saucerlings. 
S.  — College  Sons  and  Society  Girls. — “Feeds”  versus  Dining.— Mothers  over 

^ Fifty  Years  Old. — Too  Late  to  Rectify  Little  Matters  which  are  Not  Trifles.—* 

Children  as  Waiters. — How  to  Wait  and  be  Waited  Upon. — Fear  of  Innovations.— 
^ ohn  is — ^JOHN  I I 


II 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


PAOK. 

Cottage  Furnishing 48 

What  is  a “ Cottage  ? ’’—Barbarism  of  White  Paint  and  Green  Blinds.— Exscind 
“Massive ’’and  “ Rich.’’— Hard- Wood  Floors,  and  Painted  Boards.— Sanitary 
Rugs  and  the  Week’s  Work. — Carpets. — Farmeress  and  Her  “ Taypestry  Brus- 
sels.’’— Cheap  Carpets  a Blunder. — English  Ingrain. — Mattings. — Styles  and 
Prices. — Shades  and  Curtains. — Straw  Chairs. — Sets  and  “ Setts.  ’’ — Yoursei.k, 
Your  Mark. — Books  are  Aristocrats. — Bamboo  Settee  and  Cushions. — Domestic 
Upholstery.— Trunk  Lounges. — Cheese-Box.— Covered  Bath-Tub.— How  to  take 
oflf  the  Edges  of  the  Strictly  Useful.— Bed  Coverings. — Table-Ware,  Cheap  and 
Pretty. — Extremes  of  Scantiness  and  Crowding. — Jumble  of  Ornaments.— 
Seasoning,  to  taste. 


Licensed  Beggar,  or  Business  Partner?  ...  64 

Loveless  Marriage,  Legalized  Crime. — Thoughtless  Marriage,  Sinful  Folly. — Truest- 
Happiness  Found  in  Marriage. — The  Ideal  Marriage. — Nice  Every-Day,  Pretty 
Well-Satisfied  Couples. — The  Great  Majority  of  Couples. — A Good  Thing  that 
Might  be  Made  Better. — The  Great  Stumbling  Block.  The  Family  Income. — 
The  Scorpion-Lash  that  Drives  Wives  Mad.— John  Has  His  Say. — Why  a Woman 
Minds  Asking  for  Money. — Wives  Should  not  Mind  Being  Treated  as  Paupers, 
But  they  do, — An  Ill-Favored  Curling.— “Man  the  Bread  Winner;  Woman  the 
Bread  Eater.’’ — The  Old,  Old,  Hateful  Story. — “Ole’  Marster  an’  My  Chillun.’’ 
— Mrs.  A.  and  Her  Dividends. — Charley’s  Whim. — Mrs.  B.  and  “the  Sivinty- 
five  Cints.’’ — Mrs.  C.  and  the  Penciled  Butcher’s  Bill. — Mrs.  D.  and  How  She 
Duped  Her  John. — Mrs.  E.  and  Her  Ethics. — A Forgetful  Husband. — Mr.  F’s 
Story. — No  Shoes  to  Wear. — A Guild  of  Privileged  Paupers. — Ask  Them  how 
They  Like  It.— Representative  John  to  the  Front. — “ Would  You  Have  My  Wife 
Earn  Her  Own  Living  ? ’’  Nine  Times  Over. — Flattening  the  Base  of  the  Egg.— 
Solomon  Grundy  and  His  Query. 


The  Etiquette  of  Family  Life 79 

Another  Fellow’s  Sister. — Grace  Over  the  Whole  Barrel. — Philemon  Nemo  and  Bau- 
cis— Definition  of  Courtship. — “ Temporary  Insanity.’’ — Breakfast  in  the  Nemo 
Household. — The  Scalded  Hand. — Then  and  Now. — Sentiment  Dies  Hard  in 
Women. — Cup  and  Tumbler. — “Brute ’’and  “Boor.’’ — Sketches  from  Life. — A 
Savage  in  Every  Man.— Not  a Trial  Effort. — Model  Daughter  and  Gray-haired 
Father. — Company  and  Every-Day  Manners. — The  Inference  is  Patent. — One  of 
Two  Things  is  Wrong. — The  Responsibility  of  Wives  in  this  Matter. — “ Only  My 
Wife.’’ — Baucis  a Cipher. — The  Husband  Has  Gone  Out  of  the  Business. — 
Taking  the  Boys  Down. — Seed  of  an  Ugly  Plant — The  Toss-and-Tumble  Style  of 
Home  Life — Crockery  Platters  and  Garnished  Porcelain — “ We  Understand  Each 
Other.’’ — “Hallo,  Old  Girl!*’ — Pet  Hedgehogs. — Human  Pig-nuts. — Sincere 
and  Sweet,  and  Sincere  and  Sour. — Hearts  Won  are  Not  Hearts  Kept. — A Simple 
Rule  of  Action. — Rough  Words  and  Smooth. 


CONTENTS. 


Ill 


7AOE. 

The  Vexed  Question. — Domestic  Service  in  America  . 91 

English  Journal  and  American  Manual. — “Are  there  No  Servants  in  the  United 
States  ? ” — English  “ Servantgalism  ” — Continental  Pikes  and  Butcher-knives. — 
Iron  and  Clay. — '‘'‘Ich  Dien. — “ I Serve.” — An  Obvious  Truth. — “ Girls.” — “ Her 
and  She.” — Daughter  Robbed. — Mother  Robbed  and  Shorn.  — If  no  Servant,  No 
Mistress. — Bridget,  Katrine,  and  Victoria-Columbia-Celeste. — English  Phillis 
and  English  Abigail. — Service  as  Truly  a Trade  as  Millinery. — “ Miss  ” Howard, 
Halyburton  and  Hamilton. — Ellen  and  the  Country  Aunt. — “Me  Mother’s  Sis- 
ter, Mem  ! ” — The  Handicapped  Mistress.— The  Cross  of  “Diving  Out.” — Is  the 
Situation  Hopeless  ? — Mrs.  Whitney’s  “ May-be.”  You  Are  the  Firm. — Auditor 
and  Junior  Partner. — The  Head  the  Only  Indispensable  Member  of  the  Corpora- 
tion.— Belt  and  Wheel. — A Crying  Need. — “ The  Girl  ” Holds  the  Winning  Card. 
“A  StifiF-Ticket.” — Reference  a la  mode. — Margaret’s  Tricks  and  Drawbacks. — 
A Cyclone  in  Calico. — A Treasure,  But  Dishonest. — Purblind  and  Virtuous 
Complacency. — Only  Safe  and  Honorable  Thing  To  Do. — Nine  Cases  Out  of 
Ten. — Ten  Cases  Out  of  Ten. — Rule  that  Should  Work  Both  Ways. — The  Hard 
Mistress. — The  “ Hard  Place  ” a Small  Pox  Placard — Curses  to  be  Shunned  for 
Others  as  for  Ourselves. — A Word  of  Caution— A Paragon  in  Every  Hireling  Not 
To  Be  Expected. 


Why  Monday? 104 

“Not  Customary,  You  Know!” — Is  Any  Day  Less  Convenient?” — Steam,  Stress 
and  General  “Stew”  of  Washing-Day.— Tommy  Snooks  and  Betsey  Brooks. — 
Abrupt  Change  From  Day  of  Rest. — Blessed  Calm  of  Sunday. — Monday  Like  a 
Cold  Snap  in  Spring. — Peter  and  Paul. — Blue  and  Black  Monday. — Warmed- 
overs.  Pick-ups  and  Make-shifts. — Homeliness  of  Home. — One  Mother’s  Pretty 
Device. — Astonishing  Slowness  of  Apprehension  and  Narrowness  of  Mind. — 
What  the  Brave  Lady  of  the  Future  Will  Do. — Haunting  Demon  of  Civilization, 
—Dirt. 


‘‘Lady” 112 

Loaf -Giver.'''  — Lettice  of  Warwick;  Elizabeth  of  Hungary;  Katherine  Parr; 
Lady  Lothrop. — Definition  of  “Lady.” — Meaningless  Application. — General 
S and  the  Washlady’s  Husband. — The  Boarding-Home  and  Sewing-Ma- 

chine.— Resolution  of  the  Board  of  Management. — Refinement  of  Sarcasm — Ar- 
rogant Claim  of  Silly  Illiteracy. — The  Royal  Name  of  Woman. — “ Salesladies  ; ” 
“Foreladies.” — Ruskin’s  Deliverance  on  this  Subject. — Correspondent  Title  to 
“ Lady  ” being  “ Lord.” — “ Saleslords  : ” “ Washlord. ”— No  “ Below-stairs  ” in 
a Republic. — Action,  Not  Condition,  Makes  the  Noble  Man  or  Woman. — Totter- 
ing on  the  Main  Truck. — “ Lady-Help  Wanted.” 


IV 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


rAOB. 

Mouse  Or  Rat? 120 

Anecdotes  Like  Comets. — Madame  and  Monsieur. — Stubborn  Effort  to  Set  Other 
People  Right. — Society  By  the  Ears. — Little  P'oxes. — Story  of  Vulgar  Fellow 
in  His  Carriage,  and  Gentleman  Driving  a Wagon.  — Hard  To  Allow  One’s 
Friends  To  Be  Mistaken. — A Good  Story. — My  Neighbor’s  Opinions. — Your 
Sister’s  Carpet. — Musician  and  Mistaken  Performer. — Restiveness  of  Reformer 
Under  Criticism. — Web  not  of  our  Weaving,  Nor  For  Our  Wear. — Let  Others 
Enjoy  Their  Opinions. — If  They  Annoy  You,  Get  Away  From  Them  1 


Household  Worries 126 

Woman’s  Daily  Life,  One  Part  Work  and  Three  Parts  Worry  ; A Man’s,  One  Part 
Worry  and  Three  Parts  Work. — Men  Are  Courageous,  Women  Patient. — “ Not 
My  Way  of  Doing  Business!” — Difference  in  Man’s  and  Woman’s  Method. — 
Usually  the  Woman  Plas  None. — Veteran  Housekeepers  and  Printed  Manuals. — 
“ No  Particular  Rule.” — Administration  and  Execution.  ” Keeps  a Dog  and  Does 
His  Own  Barking.” — Hands  and  Assistants. — Wife’s  Agony  of  Self-Upbraiding. — 
Husband’s  Criticism. — The  Large  Establishment  No  Exception. — The  Most 
Defenceless  Class  in  the  Community. — An  Uneasy  Ocean  Casting  Up  Mire  and 
Dirt. — Household  Worries  Should  Be  Superficial. — Prince  Henry. — Woman  in 
Insane  Asylum  Polishing  One  Window-pane. — Type  of  Thousands. 


Visited * . . 132 

Is  Hospitality  a Duty  ? — Syllogism. — The  Fisherman  Apostle. — Latch-string  super- 
seded by  Spring-bolt  and  patent  Key. — R.  S.  V.  P.  The  quid  pro  quo  of  Receiving 
and  Entertaining. — ‘‘Quite  one  of  The  Family.” — Young  Girls  in  Virginia 
Country  House.— One  Day’s  Experience. — Flying  One’s  Own  Colors. — The 
English  Method  of  Giving  Invitations. — Fashion  of  “At  Home.” — What  it 
Means. — Compliment,  Not  Slight. — Unconscious  Impertinence  of  Coming 
“Some  Other  Time.” — Fatuous  Self-Conceit. — Too  Much  Ceremony. — Benev- 
olent Torture. — Definition  of  “a  Bore.” — Talent  of  Entertaining  Well. — Visitor 
of  the  Spongiest  Type. — Roasted  Hostess. — The  Blessed  Three. — A Misnomer.^ 


Visitor 142 

“ llospitate.” — Crust  of  the  Loaf. — Tasteless  Shell. — Successful  Hosts  depend  upon 
Appreciative  Guests. — Patronizing  Visitor. — “ Can’t  you  let  me  off  this  once  ?” 
Delicate  Flattery. — One  Guest,  and  His  Exactions. — The  Health-Bread  of 
Another. — Mungo  Park  and  Zulu  Woman. — Too  Late,  and  Too  Early. — Piano  at 
Dawn. — Do  not  Gossip  of  your  Host. — Over-Praise  is  Patronage. — Exertion  to 
be  Agreeable. 


CONTENTS. 


V 


PAGE. 

With  Our  Girls 153 

“Heaven  Help  the  Men.” — Requisites  for  Spinster,  and  for  Wife. — Our 
Girl  Speaks  Her  Mind. — Drift  of  Thistle-Down. — The  Man  who  Knows  No 
Better. — The  Man  who  Means  Well. — Free-and-Kasy  Youth. — Friendship 
Between  the  Sexes.— -Missionary  Work. 


OuR  Voices j6o 

Pompeiian  Guide  upon  American  Voices. — Bayard  Taylor’s  Definition. — “National 
Catarrh.” — Indignant  Divine. — Statesman  and  Kinsman. — Cause  and  Possible 
Cure. — Loudness  of  Tone. — “Sweet-faced  and  Shrill-voiced.” — “Peacocks’ 
Gala-Day. — Family  Party  at  Delmonico’s. — Quality  and  Key  of  Voice. — Use  of 
Soft  Pedal  and  Legato  Movement. — Heredity. — Ben  Jonson  and  John  Sylvester. 


How  We  Speak 167 

Common  Sense  and  Sad  Experience. — Go  Astray  as  Soon  as  Born,  Speaking  Double 
Negatives. — A “ Real  Lady.” — Magnificent  Woman  and  Her  Speech. — Persistent 
Mangling  of  Vernacular. — A Mystery. — Self-Made  Man  and  Murdered  English. 

— Diamonds  Set  by  Blacksmith. — An  Anomaly. — People  Who ! A D.  D., 

F.  F.  V. — When  the  Foible  becomes  Guilt. — No  Excuse. — Impossible  to  Speak 
Too  Well.— What  We  Owe  to  Our  Mother  Tongue,  and  to  Ourselves. 


The  Candy  Curse 173 

Candy-Eating  Babies.^ — The  Family  Sweet  Tooth. — Pound  a Week. — “Sweeties” 
Follow  Civilization. — Literary  Club  and  Candy. — Girl  of  Fourteen  and  Her 
“Bedside  Comforter.” — Sugar  as  an  Exclusive  Article  of  Diet. — Dr.  Edson’s 
Analysis  of  Poisonous  Candy.— Natural  Taste  for  Sweets,  A Feminine  Vice. 


With  Our  Boys . 178 

William  Wirt. — “ Small,  Sweet  Courtesies  of  Life.” — Gentleman  of  the  Old  School. 
— “To  Herd.” — Etiquette  of  Men’s  Hats. — Our  Boys,  and  Graceful  Ways. — 
Cheap  and  Easy. — Undue  Familiarity  of  Speech  Leads  to  Freedom  of  Touch. — 
Bovine  Gambols. — “Honored  Madam.” — Womankind,  and  Respect  due  Them 
— As  Suck, 


VI 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


PAOB 

Oup  Boy  and  Our  Boy’s  Father  ....  185 

Anecdote  of  Boston  Clergyman  and  Deacon. — “The  Only  Way  to  Cure  Your  Boy  !“ 
—Girls  like  Hop-Vines,  are  Brought  Up.— Boys  Grow  Up. — Dick’s  Evenings  at 
Home. — Bumptiousness  and  What  It  Means. — Dutch  Justice. — “ Mothers  some- 
how make  Allowances  for  Everything.” — “ Out  Again  ? ” — The  Mother’s  Reply. 
—Other  Words. 


Literary  Life  of  the  Household  ....  193 

Some  Households  have  None. — Representative  Middle-Class  Families.— Definition 
of  “Literary.” — Home-Education  to  School  Children.— Rising  Man  without 
Early  Advantages. — Above  the  Mud. — Business  Man  and  The  Newspaper. — 
“Fooling  over  Books.” — Silas  Lapham. — “No  Time  to  Read.” — No  Higher 
Mission  than  the  Mothers. — The  Mother’s  Duty. — The  Woman  who  IVill  Read. 
— “ Life  Without  Letters.” 


Women  as  Mothers  ...  ...  202 

“ Reasons  why  Women  should  not  Vote.” — The  House-that-Jack-built. — A Mystery. 
— Society  Girl. — The  Young  Wife. — Chronically-fatigued. — No  Training  for 
Maternal  Office.  — The  First  Baby.— Margaret  Fuller’s  Cry.  — Unique  of 
Motherhood, 


Our  Baby 208 

Queen. — Mother  Nature. — Pair  of  New  Mothers. — All  the  Difference  in  the  World. — 
The  Wonderful  Baby. — Elsie  Venner  and  “ Rose-Bud. ’’-—Husband’s  Work  and 
The  Wife’s. — Living  Over  Our  Own  Lives  Again. — Plaint  over  the  First-Born. 
— This  Life  Worth  Living. 


Vagaries  of  the  American  kitchen  . . • . 215 1 

“ Twenty-Seven  Religions  and  One  Gravy.” — Our  Housewife’s  Warm,  Substantial 
lireakfast. — Boiled  Tea. — “ Some  Substance  into  It.” — Grilled  Leather-and-Fat. 
—Soup  and  Slops.— Family  Pastry.— Fat  and  Frying-Pan.— Drained  Dishes  and 
Undrained  Vegetables.  —Burnt  Toast.  - Jamestown  Tower  and  Plymouth  Rock. 
— Sooty  Idol  — Hope  for  the  National  Cuisine. 


CONTENTS. 


VII 


PAGE. 

Breakfast  as  it  Should  Be 223 

Our  Movable  Feasts. — Jones,  Mechanic. — Melchius  Jones,  Bsq.,  Manufacturer  and 
Millionaire. — Continental  Breakfast. — Why  We  do  not  Adopt  It. — Paterfamilias 
utters  His  Mind. — Goblin  Care  at  Early  Morning. — Father  at  Breakfast  Behind 
Newspaper. — Like  Spavined  Horses. — Bill-of-Fare,  and  How  to  Eat  Breakfast. 
— Christianizing  Influence  of  Breakfast-Table. 


The  Tea  Table 231 

Yorkshire  Tea,  Eighty  Years  Ago. — Our  Big  and  Varied  Teas. — Supper. — An  Over- 
grown Caricature. — Family  Tea  versus  “Spread.” — Dry,  Cold  and  Cheerless 
Evening  Meal. — Something  Better. — “ Our  Best  China  and  Sunday  Nights.” — 
Supper-Rolls  and  Wifely  Devotion. — Omelette,  rather  than  Rose-bud. — Means 
of  Grace  and  Beauty. 


What  Our  Children  Eat 239 

Dr.  Fothergill  upon  Food  for  the  Nursery. — “With  Impunity.” — Two-Year-Old 
Baby  and  Wind-fall  Pears. — Whey-faced  Three-Year-Old. — Bobby’s  Breakfast, 
Dinner  and  Supper. — Why  the  Trial-Balance  does  not  come  out  Right. — 
Heredity?  Our  British  Cousins. — American  Lad  upon  Diet  of  Princes. — Bobby’s 
Baby-Brother. 


Introduction  to  Menus 


Spring  Bills  of  Fare 247 

125  Recipes  Arranged  in  Bills  of  Fare  for  Breakfast,  Luncheon  and  Dinner. 

Summer  Bills  of  Fare 321 

125  Recipes  Arranged  in  Bills  of  Fare  for  Breakfast,  Luncheon  and  Dinner. 


The  Plague  of  Flies 378 

The  Dinner  Pail 383 

Autumn  Bills  of  Fare 389 

125  Recipes  Arranged  in  Bills  of  Fare  for  Breakfast,  Luncheon  and  Dinner. 


Thanksgiving  Dinner 


443 


Winter  Bills  of  Fare 

125  Recipes  Arranged  in  Bills  of  Fare  for  Breakfast,  Luncheon  and  Dinner. 


449 


Christmas  Dinner  . 


500 


■I’ 


Illustrations. 

PAOB. 

No.  I.  Portrait  of  Marion  Harland,  » ...  . . # • Frontispiece. 

No.  2.  Withdrawing-Room.  . . . . 23 

No.  3.  Family  Sitting-Room . 27 

No.  4.  Reception-Room. - 32 

No.  5.  Waiting  for  a “ Rise. ” 38 

No.  6.  Every-Day  Service « 45 

No.  7.  Sunnybank.  Marion  Harland’s  Summer  Cottage.  . . . « t 50 

No.  8.  “ I wanted  you  should  see  my  new  carpet!  ” ....  a ® . 55 

No.  9.  Cottage  Bed-Room. . , « 60 

No.  10.  The  Forgetful  Husband . 71 

No.  II.  Another  Fellow’s  Sister.” 77 

No.  12.  “ A Fellows  own  Sister.  ” 77 

No.  13.  Wooing.  86 

No.  14.  Won 86 

No.  15.  “ Me  mother’s  sister,  ma’am!  ” 95 

No.  16.  Tommy  Snooks  and  Betsey  Brooks. — Sunday. 106 

No.  17.  Tommy  Snooks  and  Betsey  Brooks. — Monday 106 

No.  18.  ‘‘I  been  hear  that  a wash-lady  named  Mrs.  Johnsing  had  some  clo’es  to 

bring  home  for  a ’oman  named  S .” 114 

No.  19.  ” Made  too  much  at  Home.” 135 

No.  20.  Finical  Visitor 146 

No.  21.  True  courtesy. 149 

No.  22.  The  free-and-easy  youth 156 

No.  23.  Gentleman  of  the  Old  School. 179 

No.  24.  Our  Boy  and  Our  Boy’s  Father 190 

No.  25.  The  Woman  who  will  Read 199 

No.  26.  Mother  and  Baby 205 

No.  27.  Our  Baby. 211 

No.  28.  The  American  Housewife’s  Crest . . . ,217 

No.  29  Our  American  Citizen  at  Breakfast 228 

No.  30.  Our  Sabbath-Day  Tea 235 


IX 


The  Housekeeper  and  the  Home-Maker. 


SHE  country  is  full  of  housekeepers.  Some  are  better  than 
their  fellows  ; some  are  worse.  Every  house  in  which 
fires  are  made,  meals  cooked  and  served,  and  people  sleep, 
must  have  a keeper. 

The  only  exception  to  this  rule  that  has  ever  come  under  my 
personal  observation  was  a certain  old  homestead  tenanted  by  three 
sisters,  a widow  and  two  maiden  ladies,  with  their  bachelor  brother. 
It  was  at  the  South  in  ante  bellum  days,  and  slaves  lived  in  the 
kitchen  and  quarters.  These  cooked  food  by  the  quantity,  when 
convenient,  and  deposited  it  in  pantries  and  cellar.  There  were  no 
fixed  hours  for  going  to  bed  or  getting  up,  and  no  table  was  ever 
set.  When  sister  or  brother  was  hungry,  she  or  he  repaired  to 
the  cupboard,  or  foraged  in  the  cellar  and  ate  whatever  came  to 
hand.  Sweeping,  dusting  and  scrubbing  were  spasmodic  and  very 
occasional  events.  Sometimes,  the  beds  were  not  made  for 
several  days,  and  it  was  not  an  infrequent  occurrence  for  none  of 
the  white  family  to  rise  all  day  long,  except  to  seek  food.  As  they 
all  were  omnivorous  readers,  and  even  students,  the  story  prevailed 
in  the  neighborhood  that  much  learning  had  made  them  partially 
mad,  and,  although  all  lay  down  to  sleep  long  ago  in  the  bed 
that  needs  no  re-making,  and  the  old  house  was  burned  shortly 


12 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


after  the  death  of  the  last  member  of  the  queer  quartette,  the 
tradition  of  their  eccentricities  is  still  a county  tale. 

An  overwhelming  majority  of  the  tenements  built  for  human 
residence  are  kept  after  one  fashion  or  another  by  women,  and 
most  of  them  are  kept  fairly  well.  That  is,  the  inmates  are 
clothed  and  fed  decently  and  do  not  suffer  unreasonably  from  cold 
and  heat;  the  forms  of  cleaning  and  keeping  clean  are  observed, 
and  a few  of  the  laws  of  health.  The  same  may  be  said,  with 
trifling  variations,  of  an  ant-hill  or  mole-burrow.  The  lowest  form  of 
human  living  is  accomplished  by  her  who  is  a Model  Housekeeper — 
and  nothing  more.  The  interior  of  a bee-hive,  a wasp’s  or  hornet’s 
nest  better  accomplishes  the  ends  at  which  she  aims, — perfection 
of  neatness,  order,  and  systematic  working. 

We  all  know  The  Model  Housekeeper.  She  lives  next  door 
to  some  of  us.  We  could  wish  her  further  for  good  reasons  of  our 
own.  Besides  being  a descendant  in  the  direct  line  of  him  who 
thanked  God  he  was  not  as  other  men  were,  herself,  her  house 
and  her  ways  are  a continual  discouragement  to  us.  She  is  in  no 
other  sense  than  the  accident  of  contiguity,  what  Mrs,  Whitney 
calls  our  “ Next.  ” Her  very  door-knobs  reproach  us  by  their 
sparkle;  her  chairs  never  huddle  together  in  the  middle  of  the. 
room,  and  a microscope  could  find  not  a grain  of  dust  in  the 
joints,  or  in  the  sharpest  turn  of  the  carvings.  She  dusts  her 
ROOMS  (pronounced  in  capitals)  with  her  own  hands,  using,  she 
tells  you.  Four  Utensils  for  the  purpose.  No  conscientious  house- 
keeper can  dust  properly  with  less.  No.  i,  a wicker  paddle 
that  beats  out  the  dust,  without  injury  to  plush  or  silk  upholstery; 
No.  2,  a pointed  brush  for  boring  into  crevices  and  corners  ; No. 
3,  a fluffy  bunch  of  feathers  with  which  the  dust  is  dislodged; 
No.  4,  a soft  cheese-cloth  duster  for  wiping  it  off.  This  last  is 
washed  and  dried  every  morning  “ and  generally  ironed,  ” She 


THE  HOUSEKEEPER  AND  THE  HOME-MAKER,  13 


has  a way  of  announcing  these  supererogatory  works  of  cleanliness 
that  is  a hot  knitting  needle  in  your  guilty  soul.  When  she  tells 
yon  that  every  picture  in  her  house  is  wiped  off  with  a cloth 
every  day  except  Sunday,  and,  once  a week,  taken  down,  that  the 
back  and  cords  and  hooks  may  be  carefully  dusted;  that  she 
could  not  recpncile  it  to  her  conscience  if  all  the  plated  and  brass 
rings  and  handles  upon  her  premises  were  not  polished  twice  a 
week,  and  all  the  silver  looked  after  every  day ; that  every  dish- 
towel  and  wash-cloth  is  inspected  by  her  delicate  fingers  and 
nose  daily,  and  that  every  closet  passes  under  the  same ; that  she 
could  go  at  midnight  to  any  drawer  in  any  room  of  her  house, 
and  find  without  a light  any  article  named;  that  she  carries 
her  lists  of  linen,  china  and  glass  “in  her  head,”  and  defies 
any  careless  or  dishonest  “ girl  ” to  embezzle  or  fracture  with- 
out speedy  discovery,  your  heart,  like  NabaPs,  dies  within  you, 
and  you  become  as  a stone  for  despairing  impotency. 

“ I don’t  see  how  you  find  time  for  it  all ! ” said  a disheartened 
friend  to  The  Model  Housekeeper. 

“ By  not  wasting  a minute,  and  by  giving  my  whole  time  to 
my  work ! ” rejoined  The  Model,  glancing  severely  at  a magazine 
laid  upon  the  other’s  work-basket.  “In  My  Opinion,  domestic 
duties  should  have  the  first  place  in  a woman’s  thoughts.  ” 

She  was  right.  The  only  loop-hole  of  escape  from  her  con- 
demning sentence  opens  in  the  question:  “What  are  domestic 
duties?  ” 

“Have  you  read,  Ms  Life  Worth  Living?’”  asked  a rosy- 
(cheeked  girl  of  a pale  one  in  my  presence. 

“ No,  but  I can  answer  the  question.  It  is  not  worth  living 
in  our  house.  We  are  professional  house-cleaners, — only  we  have 
no  rest  between  seasons.  When  I get  married  I mean  to  revel  in 
dust  and  disorder, — at  least  until  the  honeymoon  is  over.” 


14 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Taking  the  liberty  an  old  acquaintance  might  claim,  of 
remarking  upon  the  shining  purity  and  absolute  order  of  a 
country-house  to  the  daughter  of  the  hostess,  I was  shocked  at  the 
dark  look  that  came  over  a young  face  which  I had  noted  as  weary 
to  haggardness.  She  followed  me  to  my  room  that  night. 

“ Please  don’t  praise  my  mother’s  housekeeping  again ! ” 
she  said  bitterly.  “ Ours  is  the  cleanest  house  in  the  township, 
but  we  pay  well  for  it.  It  has  driven  my  brothers  from  home 
to  find  comfort  in  disreputable  haunts,  It  is  driving  me  into  my 
grave ! 

That  Model  Housekeeper  has  now  no  drawback  to  the  fulfill- 
ment of  her  “ domestic  duties.”  The  boys  will  never  again  leave 
dusty  footprints  upon  her  polished  floors,  or  wear  a track  down  the 
middle  of  her  stair-carpet  when  she  has  warned  them  a dozen  times 
to  go  up  one  side  and  down  the  other.  The  daughter  who  once 
declared  she  would  not  know  her  own  photograph  unless  it  had  a 
duster  in  its  hand,  no  longer  interferes  with  her  parent’s  perfectly 
laid  plans.  There  will  be,  in  the  days  to  come,  no  marks  of  grand- 
babies’  fingers  upon  the  mirrors  and  plate-glass  windows. 

Some  of  the  most  careless  housekeepers  I have  ever  known  were 
born  and  brought  up  in  the  “ cleanest  houses  in  the  township.” 
The  apprenticeship  wrought  out  the  determination  to  have 
homes  of  their  own,  and  in  the  attempt,  they  strayed  into  the 
opposite  extreme  of  negligence  of  everything  but  so-called  “comfort.” 

It  is  possible  to  keep  a house  not  wisely,  but  too  well.  She,  whom 
those  who  appreciate  this  stigmatize  as  the  “ nasty-particular  ” 
house-wife,  falls  into  selfish  bigotry  that  swallows  up  consideration 
for  other  people’s  taste  and  convenience.  Recipes  for  cookery  and 
methods  of  work,  and  observance  of  times  and  seasons  are  formu- 
lated into  an  iron-clad  routine  stamped  as  “ my  way.  ” Intelligent 
^iystem  has  elasticity  when  the  pressure  is  removed.  The  oft- 


THE  HOUSEKEEPER  AND  THE  HOME-MAKER.  15 


quoted  my  way  of  our  Model  Housekeeper  requires  a dynamite 
blast  to  stir  it,  and  tbe  fragments  are  dangerous. 

No  sensible  person  complains  of  a woman’s  love  for,  and  pride 
in  her  Home.  Suck  love  and  pride  ennobles  her.  It  is  when  she 
binds  thought,  strength  and  sentiment  down  to  slavish  toil,  over  and 
beyond  the  obligation  to  keep  her  house  clean,  comfortable  and 
tasteful,  that  she  comes  short  of  the  queenly  office  of  Home-Maker. 
For,  be  it  distinctly  comprehended,  our  nasty-particular  ” house- 
wife does  not  slave  herself  and  daughters  to  death  for  others’  good. 
Husband  and  children  would  live  as  happily,  die  as  peacefully  and 
go  to  heaven  as  surely  if  the  picture-cords  and  hooks  were  left 
undusted  for  six  weeks  at  a time.  It  is  but  decent  and  wholesome 
to  wipe  the  dust  from  tables  and  chairs,  but  one’s  spiritual  status 
should  not  depend  upon  the  daily  use  of  the  Four  Utensils.  An 
overlooked  cobweb  in  the  garret  is  a minor  violation  of  the  duty 
owed  to  God  and  man  by  comparison  with  rusted  sympathies  and 
Pharisaical  condemnation  of  the  publican  woman  who,  standing 
afar  off  in  the  court  littered  with  toys  and  books,  her  happy, 
boisterous  children  clinging  to  her  skirts  and  climbing  into  her 
loving  arms, — durst  not  lift  up  so  much  as  her  eyes  toward  the 
speckless  abode  ruled  over  by  her  sneering  censor.  Housekeepers 
may  be  hired.  Home-Makers  are  won  by  no  wages  except  love. 

The  Housekeeper  says  ‘‘  My  house,”  pridefully,  arrogantly — 
sometimes,  when  her  subjects  are  “difficult” — defiantly. 

The  Home-Maker  talks  with  tender  humility  of  “ Our  Home  ” 
— recognizing  within  the  material  structure,  the  building  not  made 
with  hands,  eternal  in  the  hearts  of  those  who  have  borne,  each  a 
share,  in  rearing  and  beautifying  it. 

If,  in  this,  the  last  volume  upon  strictly  domestic  topics  I shall 
give  to  the  public  for  several  years,  I can  lead  my  sister  women 
to  a higher  plane  of  home-life  and  home-duties  than  they  now 


i6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


occupy,  I shall  feel  that  the  mission  to  which  I devoutly  believe 
myself  to  be  called,  viz.:  that  of  dignifying  the  so-called  common- 
placeness  of  housewifely  and  maternal  duties, — has  been  carried 
forward  a generous  step  toward  a glorious  fulfillment. 


If  Not  Straw-Stubble. 


I ¥ f HILE  there  is  scarcely  a township  or  country  neighborhood 
III  in  the  United  States  that  has  not  felt,  in  some  measure, 
the  quickening  of  interest  and  endeavor  in  what  is  loosely 
termed  “Household  Decoration,”  there  are  thousands  of 
homes  that  have  undergone  no  visible  change  in  consequence  of 
it.  With  an  inconsiderable  minority  of  these,  this  is  the  result  of 
indifference.  The  owners  and  tenants  stand  still  upon  one  and  a 
narrow  platform.  What  was  good  enough  for  the  fathers  and 
mothers  should  satisfy  the  sons  and  daughters.  Or,  in  honest 
contempt  of  aesthetic  trumpery  and  distrust  of  innovations  that 
menace  what  habit  has  made  to  be  solid  comfort  for  them,  they 
set  granite  faces  against  the  violent  removal  of  ancient  hall-marks 
of  taste  or  usage. 

These  idiosyncrasies  may  account  for  perhaps  one  in  forty  of 
the  commonplace,  unattractive  homes  inhabited  by  fairly-educated 
native  Americans.  How  well  we  all  know  such  abodes  ! They  are 
melancholy  enough  in  the  country,  but  that  interior  is  not  entirely 
uninteresting  from  which  open  doors  and  windows  give  views  of 
curving  hills  and  winding  streams,  billowy  forest  and  draping 
vines.  That  rural  housefitters  and  keepers  do  not  draw  in  appre- 
ciation of  the  laws  of  beauty  at  the  pores  is  one  of  the  anomalies 

17 


i8 


HOUSE  and  home. 


of  civilization.  In  the  city  we  have  rows,  blocks,  streetsfull  of 
“ specimens  ” — ugly,  uncompromising,  hopeless,  in  the  desolation 
of  respectability.  Buildings  that  were  thoroughly  and  substan- 
tially furnished  when  the  proprietors  went  to  housekeeping,  usually 
by  the  wife’s  parents,  or  when  the  thrifty  owner  recognized  the 
fact  of  substantial  citizenship  by  buying  and  fitting  up  (substan- 
tially) No.  I o of  the  substantial  three-story  brick  block  in  a healthy 
and  eligible  location.  He  settled  within  the  stanch  walls  (24  feet 
front  in  the  clear),  with  the  intention  of  passing  the  rest  of  his 
days  there,  and  dying  in  the  nest  he  had  builded.  To  him  the 
glaring  efflorescence  of  the  body-Brussels,  the  square  piano,  cov- 
ered by  a green  cloth  embroidered  in  yellow  silks,  the  crimson  reps 
upholstery,  faded  into  lurid  dinginess,  of  the  pair  of  sofas,  the 
pair  of  marble-topped  tables,  the  dozen  chairs  to  match  the  sofas, 
the  what-not — all  in  solid  black  walnut — the  pair  of  portraits  of 
self  and  wife,  the  pair  of  oil-color  landscapes  bought  at  an  auction 
to  fill  two  vacant  spaces  on  the  wall,  the  gilded  clock  and  pair  of 
white-and-gilt  vases  on  the  mantel,  the  gilded  chandeliers  and  cut- 
glass  globes,  are,  one  and  all,  so  entirely  and  altogether  “ the  gen- 
teel thing,”  that  the  thought  of  change  never  approaches  his 
imagination.  If  he  notices  that  other  parlors  are  furnished  differ- 
ently, he  draws  a comparison  in  favor  of  his,  as  the  lover  of  plain 
roast  and  boiled  repudiates  entrees  and  garnishes. 

Honest  John  is  consistent  so  far  as  his  lights  go.  He  craves 
no  different  disposition  of  the  furniture  of  office  or  counting  room, 
sits  in  the  same  chair,  and  writes  at  the  same  desk  he  used  thirty 
years  ago.  The  best  men  comprehend  so  imperfectly  what  her 
house  is  to  a woman,  that  nobody  thinks  of  addressing  domestic 
talk  to  them.  It  is  from  no  want  of  love  for  his  wife  and  desire  to 
please  his  daughters,  that  the  wine  of  John’s  contentment  settles 
u})oii  its  lees,  and,  when  shaken,  grows  muddy. 


IF  NOT  STRAW— STUBBLE. 


19 


I wonder,  sometimes,  if  husband  and  wife  ever  talk  a thing  out 
as  two  men,  and  (more  rarely)  as  two  women  do.  The  realm  of 
feeling  lies  with  them  so  dangerously  near  that  of  sense  that  the 
wife  is  almost  certain  to  pass  the  frontier  before  the  conference 
has  lasted  five  minutes.  If  she  could  but  once  drill  into  his 
mind,  by  the  regulation  argument,  the  truth  that  what  business 
methods,  business  profits,  business  reputation  are  to  him,  house- 
keeping and  home-making  are  to  her,  her  point  would  be  gained, 
and  forever.  Failing  this,  she  flies  into  the  faee  of  his  prejudices 
and  runs  the  house  to  suit  herself,  or  accomplishes  changes  strat- 
egically. If  she  is  too  pacifie  for  one  course,  too  upright  for  the 
.other,  things  remain  as  they  were  from  the  beginning. 

Sometimes, — and  this  is  the  posture  of  aflairs  we  assume  in 
the  present  paper — honest  John  is  amiably  indifferent  as  to  the 
appointments  of  the  edifice  in  which  he  takes  his  meals  and  sleeps, 
provided  he  is  well  fed  and  lodged,  and  “ Mother’s  ” whimsies  do  not 
involve  a hard  pull  upon  his  pocket.  She  is  welcome  to  make 
the  furniture  dance  all  over  the  house  if  she  goes  in  for  that  sort 
of  amusement,  but  he  will  not  pay  the  piper  if  his  bill  is  heavy. 

Our  house-wife  pereeives  a certain  reasonableness  in  his  objec- 
tions. Still,  having  eyes,  she  sees ; having  intellect  and  taste, 
she  learns.  If  she  has  not  kept  pace  with  the  march  of  improve- 
ment, she  is  not  so  far  behind  as  to  lose  the  echo  of  her  flying  foot- 
steps. She  knows  as  well  as  do  you,  aesthetic  and  wondering  visitor, 
that  reps  and  hair-cloth  were  never  pretty,  and  have  now  gone 
out  completely.  The  sprawling  garlands  of  the  body-Brussels,  the 
pairs  of  everything  else  may  offend  your  eye.  They  are  a grief 
of  soul  to  her.  She  “just  hates  ” the  lambrequins  overhanging 
the  Holland  shades, — one  large  scollop  in  the  middle,  a small  scollop 
on  each  side,  a tassel  dependent  from  the  plumb  center  of  the 
middle  and  biggest  bulge.  In  sheer  desperation  she  is  sometimes 


20 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


tempted  to  throw  the  dozen  chairs  frantically  at  the  piano  that  has 
stood  in  the  same  place  for  seventeen  years.  She  loves  beauty, — 
does  this  quiet-eyed  woman — and  would  express  love  and  longing 
by  visible  signs  if  she  had  the  means  with  which  to  do  it. 

CavSting  about  for  these  as  a vine  sends  out  filaments,  she  has 
fastened  upon  ’ sundry  charmingly-written  manuals  for  house- 
furnishing  and  woman’s  part  in  the  same,  and  has  been  sunk  into 
foggier  depths.  What  is  it  to  her  that  car\^ed  wood  mantels,  with 
beveled  mirrors  at  the  back,  tiers  of  shelves  at  the  sides  and  painted 
tiles  beloAv,  display  treasures  of  bric-a-brac  and  ceramic  art  ? 
That  a “ crimson  carpet  of  very  small  pattern,  in  two  or  three  soft 
shades  is  very  pretty,  particularly  if  the  paper  be  pale  pink  or 
cream-color  with  corner  lines  of  crimson  in  it  ? ” That  “ with  this 
carpet,  the  furniture-covering  should  be  ashes  of  roses,  ornamented 
with  crimson  fringe,  the  sofas  of  divan  shape,  well  stuffed,  with 
uo  wood- work  visible  ? ” With  augmented  anguish  of  despair,  she 
reads,  that  “ a portiere  of  pale  resedas  serge,  bordered  with  brown 
velvet,  has  a deep  dado  of  the  same  velvet,  and  is  embroidered 
in  crewels  with  reeds,  -grasses  and  pale-hued  swamp-flowers 
springing  from  the  dado.” 

As  when  a hungry  man  dreameth,  and  behold  he  eateth  ; 
but  he  awaketh,  and  his  soul  is  empty.” 

The  appointments  of  her  pair  of  parlors  are  incontrovertible 
facts  of  which  she  cannot  get  rid, — ugly,  inharmonious,  irretriev- 
able, but  hers  and  //ere.  Carpets,  wall-paper,  solid  furniture, 
chosen,  like  Mrs.  Primrose’s  wedding-gown,  for  qualities  that  will 
wear,  are  more  odious  for  the  dreams  of  beauty  evoked  by  the 
reading  from  which  we  have  quoted. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Israelitisli  thrift  that  some  of  the 
captives  who  were  ordered  to  furnish  the  tale  of  bricks  when  straw 


• Literal  quotation. 


IF  NOT  STRAW— STUBBLE. 


21 


wk>5  withheld,  betook  themselves  to  reaped  fields  to  gather  stubble 
as  a substitute.  Their  example  may  revive  the  courage  of  the 
housewife  who  has  made  up  her  mind  that  “ there  is  no  use 
drying  ” to  alter  the  aspects  of  her  surroundings. 

We  will  begin,  if  you  please,  with  the  back  parlor.  As  a key- 
liote,  drop  from  your  mental  vocabulary  that  misused  word  “ parlor.” 
To  yourself,  speak  of  both  apartments  as  drawing-rooms ; of  the 
Inner,  as  a withdrawing  room.”  Pull  out  the  flat,  severe  summer 
front  and  make  a hearth  for  the  room  by  inserting  a grate,  or 
arrange,  if  you  dare,  the  very  much  better  fire-place  for  burning 
wood.  If  you  can  lay  hold  of  a pair  of  old  brass  andirons,  you 
have  a prize.  But  neat,  and  not  expensive  ones  can  be  bought  of  a 
hardware  merchant.  The  chimney  may  be  shallow,  but  it  will 
probably  “ draw  ” well.  At  any  rate,  try  the  experiment  of  kind- 
ling a fire  within  it.  Set  a fender  in  front  of  it,  and  before  that  a 
rug.  Avoid  imitations  of  Turkish  or  Persian  manufactures.  If 
you  cannot  pa}^  from  eighteen  to  thirty  dollars  for  a small,  genuine 
article,  choose  one  from  Lowell  looms,  small  of  figure,  modest  in 
hue.  If  you  can  afford  neither,  just  now — wait.  The  looking 
forward  to  better  and  better  things  is  one  of  the  many  privileges 
people  of  moderate  means  enjoy  above  those  who  can  buy  whatever 
they  want,  whenever  they  like. 

Ask  John  boldly  if  he  will  let  you  have  the  Mortuary  Memorial 
Mantels  painted  to  match  the  wood  work  of  the  room.  If  the  latter 
is  white,  let  the  marble  be  ebonized.  Should  he  object  decidedly 
(as  he  probably  will)  to  “ have  so  handsome  an  article  ruined,”  do 
your  best  to  hide  it,  or  to  shade  the  white  stare  at  that  side  of  the 
apartment.  Have  a board  made  of  the  size  and  shape  of  the  mantel- 
shelf and  cover  it  yourself  with  felt  (two  yards  wide,  $1.37  per  yard). 
Select  the  color  advisedly,  consulting  the  fixed  conditions  of  your 
field.  It  is  almost  certain  that  the  present  complexion  will  need 


22 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


toning  down.  To  this  end,  you  will  choose  olive  or  old  gold,  or 
gold-brown,  or  some  other  of  the  soft  subduednesses  dear  to  the 
eye  of  artists.  Tack  along  the  outer  edge,  with  brass-headed 
nails,  a felt  lambrequin,  trimmed  with  plush  of  a warmer  and  good 
contrasting  color,  with  long  scarf-like  ends  to  conceal  the  upright 
shafts  which  are  the  ghastliest  part  of  the  construction.  At  the  back 
of  the  mantel  set  three  shelves,  shorter  than  the  felt-covered  board 
by  a foot.  A carpenter  will  make  them  for  you  of  hard  wood, 
red  cherry,  ash  or  walnut,  at  one-third  of  a cabinet-maker’s  prices. 
Ebonized  pine  is  cheap  and  not  bad.  Behind  them  tack  velveteen 
of  only  fair  quality,  in  color  matching  the  plush  trimmings  of 
the  lambrequins,  to  throw  into  relief  the  mantel  arrangements. 
Let  these  be  simple  in  form,  and  not  crowded  as  to  room.  Bits 
of  old  china,  Japanese  jars,  loose  photographs,  an  odd-shaped  bird’s 
nest  pinned  against  the  velveteen  ; on  the  uppermost  shelf  a good 
plaster  bust,  and  a slender  vase  with  one,  or  at  most  two  peacock 
feathers  drooping  towards  the  bust  — set  on  such  trifles  as  these 
as  irregularly  as  possible,  nothing  balancing  anything  else,  and  no 
one  prominent  object  exactly  in  the  middle  of  the  shelf.  One  of 
your  objects  is  to  break  up  the  pairing  system. 

Taking  the  fire-place  as  the  heart  of  the  design,  we  will  humor 
the  fancy  by  considering  the  draping,  shelves,  fender  and  rug  as 
the  pericardium,  and  work  outward.  Direct  your  carpenter  to  make 
breast-high  shelves,  five  or  six  in  number,  for  the  recess  on  each 
side  of  the  chimney,  tack  notched  morocco  two  inches  deep, — dark 
green,  red  or  leather-colored — ^on  the  edges  of  the  shelves  with 
brass-headed  nails ; cover  the  topmost  shelf  with  felt  like  that  on 
the  mantel,  and  fill  all  with  the  family  library.  The  top  gives 
standing-room  for  easeled  photographs,  statuettes,  ink-stand,  port- 
folios and  the  like.  Family  portraits  are  less  out  of  taste  in  a 
library  or  living  room  than  in  a place  where  you  receive  general 


V, 


IF  NOT  STRAW— stubble. 


25 


visitors,  therefore,  bring  your’s  and  John’s  in  here,  and  hang  above 
the  book  shelves.  A loose  fold  of  Japanese  drapery  (60  cents  a 
yard)  cast  over  a corner  of  the  gilt  frame  will  dignify  a common 
picture,  and  bring  out  the  best  points  of  a good  one.  Break  up 
sharp  rectangles  by  such  ingenious  devices  whenever  you  can  do  it 
without  artistic  affectations. 

Now  for  the  table  with  the  horizontal  slab,  inviting  obituary 
record  of  the  death  by  slow  torture  of  the  twins.  Comfort  and 
Elegance.  In  a front  parlor  a center-table  is  a solecism.  There 
is  no  reason  why  it  should  stand  under  the  chandelier,  since 
nobody  ever  sits  there  to  read  or  write,  and  every  reason  why  it 
should  be  wheeled  to  one  side,  or  a corner  of  the  apartment,  to  be 
out  of  the  way  of  the  entering  or  retiring  guests.  But  in  our  with- 
drawing-room,  it  symbolizes  family  concentration,  conference,  cheer. 
Cover  it  with  a cloth  that  will  hang  low  on  every  side.  Should 
you  have  to  make  one,  let  it  be  of  felt  like  that  you  have  already 
used,  with  a band  of  the  contrasting  plush  set  on  about  six  inches 
above  the  edge.  I hope  you  have  a reading  lamp.  There  is  one 
in  nearly  every  house  now-a-days.  Hang  on  the  porcelain  or  glass 
shade  a banner  screen,  or  a tissue-paper  rose  or  sunflower,  to  shield 
the  eyes  of  worker  and  reader,  and  set  the  lamp  invitingly  nearer 
one  side  of  the  table  than  the  other,  where  it  will  mean  something. 
In  the  middle  it  is  almost  expressionless.  Scatter  around  it  books 
that  are  readable  and  have  been  read.  The  used  covers  invite  the 
handling  of  other  fingers.  A work  basket,  a glimpse  of  bright 
crewels  at  the  mouth  of  a pretty  work  bag,  a bit  of  incomplete 
embroidery,  are  suggestive,  and  help  to  individualize  your  terri- 
tory. If  practicable,  have  the  piano  in  here,  too,  at  the  back  of  the 
room  opposite  the  fire,  and  open  it  in  the  evenings.  Send  four  or 
five  of  the  solid  first  inhabitants  in  reps  and  walnut  into  the  other 
room  to  fill  the  place  vacated  by  the  instrument,  and  substitute 


26 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


for  them  three  lacquered  reception  chairs  and  a straw  chair  or  two. 
Yon  can  buy  these  last  for  three  dollars  apiece ; ebonize  or  stain 
them  brown  yourself — any  paint  store  will  furnish  the  bottles  of 
staining  liquid.  Tie  into  the  seats  cushions  of  gayly  colored 
stuff ; make  a much  bigger  cushion  of  a confiscated  pillow,  cover 
with  a stouter  fabric — a remnant  of  momie  cloth  or  tnrcoman — 
and  lay  it  on  the  comer  of  the  rug.  Throw  an  afghan  or  shawl, 
the  larger  the  better,  over  the  arm  of  the  sofa,  and  pull  it  away 
from  the  wall  at  the  further  end  in  recognition  of  the  fire-place. 
The  drooping  fringes  of  the  wrap  will  go  far  toward  correcting  the 
obdurate  expression  of  the  behemoth.  Perhaps  no  one  will  throw 
himself  there  to  rest  while  his  wife  reads  aloud  by  the  evening 
lamp,  or  his  daughter  draws  lulling  music  from  the  piano ; but  the 
altered  angle  of  the  sofa,  the  waiting  afghan,  lend  a touch  of 
human  interest  to  the  arrangement. 

Hang  scrim  or  madras  curtains  under  the  lambrequins  and 
over  the  linen  shades  of  the  windows  ; a felt  portiere  with  a broad 
plush  band,  eighteen  inches  from  the  bottom,  from  pole  and  rings 
in  the  folding  doorway.  Or,  this  may  be  of  momie  cloth,  serge, 
or  some  other  of  the  many  cheap  and  effective  stuffs  sold  for  such 
purposes.  Buy  a bamboo  easel  for  $5,  or  show  the  carpenter  how 
to  make  one  of  pine,  and  have  it  ebonized,  with  lines  of  gilt  or 
scarlet  relieving  the  black.  This  will  cost  about  $3.50.  Excellent 
reproductions  of  fine  engravings  by  the  heliotype  and  autotype 
processes  are  sold  for  from  fifty  cents  to  one  dollar  apiece,  and  can 
be  simply  framed  for  another  dollar.  Send  to  an  art-store  for  a 
catalogue,  and  select  one  or  more  to  fill  the  easel.  A palm  in 
the  latticed  flower  pot  in  the  back  window  most  remote  from 
the  fire,  a box  of  ivy  in  the  corner,  are  points  of  cheer  in  wintei 
time.  If  you  can  re-cover  an  old  arm  chair  that  belonged  to  your 
fltiH  tiim  it  sociallv  inward  toward  the  table,  you 


r 


'*  V* 


IF  NOT  STRAW— STUBBLE. 


29 

will  need  little  beyond  wliat  we  Have  enumerated  to  make  your  with- 
drawing room  worthy  of  the  name. 

Having  furnished  it,  live  in  it.  The  cost  of  the  additions  I 
have  sketched  may  be  covered  by  perhaps  fifty  dollars.  The  home- 
air  and  the  flavor  and  light  of  the  PRESENCE  that  come  from  the 
habitual  occupation  of  an  apartment  by  the  people  who  accord  with 
and  enjoy  its  appointments,  cannot  be  purchased  with  money. 

Abjure  tawdry  decoration  and  imitations  in  the  shape  of  worsted 
anti-macassars,  lamp-mats  and  wax-work.  Japanese  art  provides 
many  charming  articles  of  use  and  luxury.  The  wash-pongees 
from  the  same  country,  when  outlined  in  fantastic  designs  in  colored 
silks,  make  such  serviceable  tidies  and  screens  that  you  waste  time 
and  eyesight  in  cross-stitch  and  crochet. 

A word  as  to  wall  paper.  I am  afraid  this  is  as  sore  a cross  to 
you  as  the  parterre  of  the  body-Brussels,  and  that  the  two  (the 
phrase  is  technical)  “ swear  at  one  another.”  Study  combinations 
and  contrasts  of  color  that  you  may  hit  upon  one  which  will  bridge 
the  chasm  in  selecting  the  portiere  and  other  draperies,  and  further 
distract  attention  from  the  disagreement  by  trophies  of  Japanese 
fans,  and,  here  and  there,  a Japanese  banner  hung  within  some  dis- 
heartening stretch  of  glare  and  ugliness. 

A pleading  voice  over  my  shoulder  says  : “ But  the  front  room, 

which  looks  all  the  worse  by  contrast  with  the  other?  ” 

I have  taken  for  granted  the  hypothesis  that  few  of  the  great 
and  influential  middle  class  who  study  this  chapter  with  a desire  to 
put  their  teachings  into  practical  operation,  care  to  disfurnish  and 
refurnish  their  houses,  or  even  a suite  of  rooms, — if,  indeed,  they 
could  afford  to  do  this.  Your  motto,  my  inquiring  friend,  should 
be,  “ Strengthen  the  things  that  remain.  ” You  have  wrought  to 
little  purpose  in  the  home-nest  you  have  built  in  the  inner  room  if 
the  taste  and  ingenuity  therein  displayed  do  not  steal,  like  a mign- 


30 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


onette  breath,  across  the  threshold.  Until  you  can  spare  more 
money  (one  dress  the  less  per  annum  will  do  it)  for  carrying  on  the 
good  work,  devise  inexpensive  expedients  for  bringing  the  two 
apartments  into  harmony,  the  one  with  the  other.  A trail  of  Ger- 
man ivy  wandering  over  the  rigid  lines  of  the  “ what-not,  ” or  the 
conversion  of  the  whole  structure  into  a flower-stand  set  intrepidly 
before  a window  ; a low  trellis  of  hardier  English  ivy  concealing  the 
summer-front  and  breaking  the  effect  of  the  white  marble ; the 
falling  into  conversational  groups  of  the  chairs ; the  diagonal 
advance  of  the  sofa  across  one  corner,  and  of  the  table  in  another, 
a worked  scarf  cast  athwart  the  top  of  the  latter  article  of  furniture ; 
a miniature  fernery  on  the  table  or  one  end  of  mantel ; books — 
always  such  as  people  like  to  look  at  and  read — within  reach  of  the 
hand  of  the  visitor  who  is  kept  waiting  for  a few  minutes; 
unframed  photographs  pinned  up  under  larger  pictures,  a mantel- 
scarf, — any,  or  all  of  these  accessories  to  more  substantial  plenish- 
ing, will  refresh  the  eye  and  stay  your  soul  with  the  promise  of 
better  things.  As  a parting  hint, — keep  the  furniture  away  from 
the  wall.  Imagine  your  rooms  inhabited  by  a merry,  moving  com- 
pany of  people,  and  dispose  the  inanimate  contents  to  suit  their 
convenience  and  pleasure. 


The  Dining-Room,  Meals  and  Serving 


N ingenious  architect,  some  dozen  years  ago,  built  a block  of 
city  houses  on  a plan  which,  he  fondly  assumed,  would  in 
I * time  revolutionize  the  present  order  of  homestead  interiors. 
^ Kitchen,  laundry  and  store-room  were  in  the  topmost 

story  ; next,  came  servants’  dormitories  ; then,  those  of  the  family — 
dining-room,  parlors,  library,  etc.,  being  on  the  first  and  second 
floors.  There  would  be  no  effluvia  of  suds,  no  odor  of  cookery  in 
the  living  and  show  apartments  ; the  refined  colloquy  of  the  draw- 
ing-room would  not  be  broken  in  upon  by  Milesian  jargoning,  or 
the  chant  shrilled  by  Dinah,  accompanied  by  the  castanets  of 
rattling  dishes,  the  thump  of  pots  and  kettles.  Scents  and  sounds 
would  be  borne  in  a direction  in  which  the  man  in  the  moon  was 
the  householder’s  nearest  neighbor.  Provisions  and  laborers  were 
to  be  hoisted  to  working^-day  precincts  by  an  elevator.  Below  this 
torrid  zone  would  reign  the  calm  of  a land  where  it  is  always  after- 
noon. 

From  an  aesthetic  standpoint,  the  theory  was  flawless.  As  a 
legislative  experiment,  it  never  passed  the  lower  house.  And,  for 
once,  mistress  and  maid  were  of  the  same  mind.  The  one  protested 
against  the  climb  of  three  stories  whenever  she  wished  to  issue  an 
order  or  to  inspect  the  work  in  hand ; against  the  transportation  of 


33 


34 


HOUvSR  AND  HOME. 


barrels  of  groceries  and  the  passage  of  meddling  Bridgets  and 
thievish  Mikes  through  the  heart  of  her  castle  on  the  pretext  of 
calling  upon  their  “ frinds.”  The  maid  howled  at  the  barbarity  of 
forcing  a “ gurrel  ” to  risk  her  life  forty  times  a day  in  a “ murder- 
ing dumb  waiter,”  or  to  run  down  twice  forty  stairs  whenever  the 
door  bell  rang.  But  the  fatal  defect,  it  was  agreed,  was  the  diffi- 
culty of  carrying  coal  by  the  dozen  tons  to  a fourth-story  bin. 

After  half  a year  of  ineffectual  advertisement  and  exhibition,  the 
benevolent  theorist  turned  his  houses  upside  down,  and  is  still,  for 
aught  I know  to  the  contrary,  awaiting  the  millenium  of  exalted 
ideals,  and  the  custom  of  cooking  by  cleanly  gas  and  imponderable 
electricity.  Until  that  da}^,  the  kitchen  must  remain,  for  conveni- 
ence sake,  the  lower  prop  of  the  household.  It  goes  without  saying, 
that  when  the  size  of  the  lot  will  permit,  it  should  be  a wing,  or  a 
rear  extension  of  the  main  building,  and  never  located  in  the  cellar. 
It  is  as  needless  to  state  that  in  most  city  houses  the  kitchen  is 
partly  below  the  level  of  the  street.  I wish  I were  not  obliged  to 
add — and  the  dining-room  on  a level  with  the  kitchen.  Three 
times  a day,  hundreds  and  thousands  of  families  plunge  down 
straight  gangways  into  genteel  tanks,  more  or  less  chill  and 
dark,  to  go  through — perfunctorily — the  business  of  eating  and 
drinking. 

Basket-beggars  flatten  their  noses  against  the  panes,  one-armed 
women,  and  men  with  no  legs  to  speak  of,  sue  for  alms  between  the 
area  rails  ; the  soap-fat  vender,  the  butcher’s  boy,  the  swill-barrow — 
form  a goodly  procession  before  the  eyes  of  hosts  and  guests. 
When  we  are  bent  upon  privacy  or  festivity,  we  bar  the  shutters 
and  light  the  gas. 

There  is  no  temptation  to  linger  in  what  we  may  designate  as 
the  hold  of  our  domestic  craft  when  we  have  met  the  stomach’s 
demands.  Thit  duty  done,  we  speed  back  to  free  air  and  sunlight, 


THE  DINING-ROOM,  MEALS  AND  SERVING.  35 


glad  to  escape  from  the  cave  where  steams  exhale  and  smells  cling 
almost  as  continuously  as  in  the  adjacent  kitchen,  and  one  is  never 
free  from  the  jar  of  culinary  machinery. 

My  heart  smites  me  even  as  I write,  and  the  remembrance  of 
many  among  those  to  whom  these  friendly  talks  are  dedicated — 
generous,  beauty-loving  souls — who  are  not  likely  to  taste  or  to 
administer  other  than  subterranean  hospitality  in  the  whole  period 
of  their  natural  (or  unnatural)  lives.  I hasten  to  say  that,  still 
working  along  the  vein  uncovered  in  our  second  chapter,  this 
chapter  is  prepared  with  express  reference  to  those  who  must  make 
the  best  of  what  is. 

If  your  basement  eating-room  is  an  established  fact,  accept  and 
ameliorate  the  position.  In  most  of  the  dwellings  of  a most  respect- 
able class  of  householders,  it  is  not  only  the  least  pleasant  for 
situation  of  all  the  chambers  designed  for  human  residents,  but  like- 
wise the  dingiest.  Close  proximity  to  the  kitchen  may  have  some- 
thing to  do  with  the  degradation  of  what  should  be  seemly  and 
honorable.  Our  forefathers,  who  consumed  their  food  within  arm’s 
length  of  the  stove  on  which  it  was  cooked,  “ ate  to  live  ” — thrust- 
ing their  knives  down  their  throats  to  effect  the  safe  conveyance  of 
their  victuals.  There  was  no  pretence  of  regarding  a meal  as  a 
graceful  ceremony. 

Yet  this  is  what  it  should  be. 

“ If  I could  but  talk  as  you  do  ! ” exclaimed  an  artist  to  a brilliant 
racojiteur.  “ Ideas  struggle  weakly  to  my  tongue  and  die  in  the 
birth.  And,  because  I am  dumb,  I must  resign  myself  to  pass 
for  a fool  when  compared  with  men  who  know  no  more  than  I ! ” 

For  answer,  the  friend  drew  a loose  sheet  of  paper  from  under 
the  dumb  man’s  hand.  While  listening,  the  artist  had  sketched 
the  story  the  telling  of  which  had  moved  him  to  envy.  Not  a line 
was  forceless,  but  there  were  in  the  rapid  lining  exquisite  tenderness 


36  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

and  delicacy  which  were  his  rendering  of  the  tale — not  the  nar- 
rator’s. 

“ This,”  said  the  generous  critic,  holding  it  np  to  the  view  of  the 
company — “ is  visible  thought ! Every  rational  being  has  some 
mode  of  expression,  although  many  never  find  out  what  theirs  is.” 

Every  woman  who  has  won  any  measure,  however  slight,  of 
public  recognition  of  her  talent  as  author  or  artist,  is  besieged  by 
letters  and  personal  applications,  having  for  their  burden  one  query  : 

“ Our  lives  are  hard  and  homely,”  these  say  in  effect ; “ By  the 
dissatisfaction  we  feel  in  these,  we  know  ourselves  to  be  capable  of 
higher  things.  Tell  us  how  to  make  life  beautiful,  and  show  each 
of  us  what  is  her  mission.” 

It  is  not  dumb  poets  only  who  “feel  like  a seed  in  the  cold  earth, 
quickening  at  heart,  and  pining  for  the  air.”  Others,  besides  mute, 
inglorious  Miltons, 

* * * “never  sing, 

But  die  with  all  their  music  in  them.” 


These  obscure  women’s  lives  are  as  much  to  them  as  was  Elizabeth 
Tudor’s  to  her.  They  are  as  truly  given  of  God  as  was  a de  Stael’s, 
or  a Clotilda  Tambroni’s, — talents  for  which  He  will  demand  inter- 
est. Is  it  wiser  for  them  to  expend  strength  and  time  in  piteous 
whines  at  the  cruelty  of  fate  or  to  glorify  commonness,  and  make 
aids  for  the  upward  growth  of  the  thorns  in  the  hedges  that  seem 
to  shut  them  in  ? 

There  is  a lesson  for  the  discouraged  house-mother, — sick,  she 
believes,  unto  intellectual  death — in  the  infinite  pains  and  skill 
with  which  Trenck,  the  most  accomplished  man  of  his  day, — robbed 
of  liberty,  fortune  and  betrothed, — etched  on  the  tin  cups  in  which 
water  was  served  to  him  in  prison,  stories  of  his  sorrow  and  of  his 
love  that  made  artistic  gems  of  the  mean  pannikins. 


T'  ' 

' A 


i 


THE  DINING-ROOM,  MEALS  AND  SERVING.  39 

Too  many  women  (and  men)  mistake  for  repressed  genius  tke 
vague  unrest  wHicli  is  tke  soul’s  response  to  another’s  poem,  essay, 
or  novel.  Your  appreciation  of  a noble  utterance  is  not  a guarantee 
that  you  could,  in  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  say  the  same 
thing,  or  anything  one-half  so  good. 

This  is  not  didacticism,  but  practical  philosophy. 

What  has  this  preamble  to  do  with  basement  dining-rooms  ? 

With  dining-rooms,  much, — with  basements,  somewhat.  Rebel 
as  we  may  at  the  minuteness  of  the  line-upon-line  which  is  our 
appointed  work,  refuse  as  we  often  do,  to  see  the  significance  of 
stitch  after  stitch,  and  one  short  step  at  a time,  all  these  things  are 
a parable  unto  us,  and  of  the  Master’s  giving. 

Suffer  one  more  illustration — a pendant,  if  you  like,  to  the 
picture  of  Trenck  in  the  dungeon. 

Jane  Welsh  Carlyle,  sitting  up  until  three  o’clock,  A.  m.,  await- 
ing the  arising  of  her  trial  loaf  of  bread,  and  sobbing  out  her  sense 
of  “ forlornness  and  degradation suddenly  remembers  Benvenuto 
Cellini  sitting  up  all  night  watching  his  statue  of  Perseus  in  the 
furnace,  and  asks  herself:  After  all,  in  the  sight  of  the  Upper 

Powers,  what  is  the  mighty  difference  between  a statue  of  Perseus 
and  a loaf  of  bread,  so  that  each  be  the  thing  that  one’s  hand  has 
found  to  do  ? The  man’s  determined  will,  his  patience,  his  energy, 
his  resource,  were  the  really  admirable  things  of  which  his  statue 
of  Perseus  was  the  mere  chance  expression.  If  he  had  been  a 
woman  living  at  Craigenputtock,  with  a dyspeptic  husband,  sixteen 
miles  from  a baker,  all  these  same  qualities  would  have  come  out 
more  fully  in  a good  loaf  of  bread.”  That  which  came  to  spirited 
Jane  by  fits  and  starts,  do  you,  her  trans- Atlantic  sister,  take  as  a 
rule  of  daily  thinking  and  daily  living.  Assuming  that  our  eating- 
room  is  the  duty  nearest  your  hand  at  present,  let  all  the  light  that 
you  can  get  flow  into  it,  and  in  a double  sense.  Instead  of  deciding 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


4r 

that  the  carpet  condemned  as  too  faded  for  back  parlor  or  gnest  cham- 
ber IS  good  enough  for  a basement,  that  out-of-date  ornaments  and 
discarded  chromos  and  shabby  furniture  are  here  iu  place  and  keep- 
ing, do  not  esteem  it  beneath  your  dignity  and  above  the  occasion 
to  make  the  apartment  as  attractive  as  is  consonant  with  the 
means  at  3Wir  command.  Especially,  individualize  it  into  some- 
thing better  than  such  a sordid  eating-place  as  may  be  found  in  a 
thousand  second-rate  boarding-houses.  While  it  is  not  parlor  or 
boudoir,  in  which  to  lounge  away  the  intervening  hours  of  the  tri- 
daily meals,  it  should  become  a rendezvous  to  which  the  several 
members  of  the  household  shall  anticipate  return  at  appointed 
seasons  with  higher  pleasure  than  that  begotten  b}^  animal  appetite. 

Of  course,  the  central  and  handsomest  article  of  furniture  must 
be  the  table.  If  3^011  cannot  afford  fine  china,  pretty  glass  and  solid 
silver  spoons  and  forks,  because  your  parlor  must  be  as  elegant  as 
3^our  neighbor’s,  tone  down  the  elegance  of  the  quarters  fitted  up 
for  the  inspection  of  outsiders,  in  order  to  bring  up  the  tone  of  that 
which,  more  than  an3^  other  single  feature  of  housekeeping  tends 
to  make  the  abode,  HOME,  for  a majority  of  those  to  whom  your 
most  zealous  service  is  due.  Just  taste  decries  glaring  incongruity 
in  velvet  coverings  and  hangings  in  the  showrooms,  and  tawdry 
plated  ware,  coarse  crockery  and  napery  on  the  family  board. 
When  the  table,  thus  furnished,  is  surrounded  by  wife  and  daugh- 
ters expensivel3^  attired  in  the  reigning  mode,  the  contrast  is  yet 
more  disagreeable.  If  your  serv^ants  handle  breakfast  and  tea 
things  rudely  and  cannot  be  taught  better,  take  charge  of  them  in 
person  rather  than  vulgarize  your  children’s  manners  and  taste  by 
accustoming  them  to  the  habitual  use  of  things  “ that  cannot  be 
hurt.”  My  observation  and  experience  go  to  prove  that  dainty 
wares  prized  openly  and  even  affectionately  by  a mistress,  are 
almost  sure  to  meet  with  delicate  usage  from  hirelings.  Let  them 


THE  DINING-ROOM,  MEALS  AND  SERVING.  41 


comprehend  that  while  you  hold  these  in  esteem  commensurate 
with  their  value,  you  give  of  your  best  to  those  you  love  best. 

Children  are  yet  more  easily  trained  into  appreciation  of  the 
choice  appointments  of  the  table.  The  daily  use  of  them  is  an 
object-lesson,  inculcating  the  truth  that,  joined  to  the  feminine 
passion  for  the  fragile  store  is  fonder  devotion  for  those  in  whose 
service  they  are  risked.  In  some  subtle  way  the  child  respects 
himself  the  more,  behaves  the  better,  because  his  mother  treats  him 
as  other  fellows’  mothers  treat  company.  He  is  more  apt  to  sip 
noiselessly  from  a cut-glass  goblet  or  a china  cup  than  from  a 
vessel  that  recalls  the  witty  traveler’s  complaint  of  a hotel  coffee 
cup : 

“ It  is  like  trying  to  drink  over  the  edge  of  a stone  wall ! ” 

To  touch  the  fair  array  with  unwashed  hands  soon  stands  with 
the  boy  as  profanation.  Laugh  though  we  do  at  Angelina’s  adjura- 
tion to  Alphonso  in  displaying  her  purchase  of  an  old  blue  ” tea- 
pot— “ Oh,  do  let  us  try  to  live  up  to  it ! ” — there  is  a grain  of  reason  t 
in  it.  Avail  yourself,  without  scruple,  of  every  such  crumb  of 
refining  leaven.  So  long  as  you  can  obtain  flowers,  never  set  the 
table  without  a bowl  or  vase  of  them  in  the  middle  of  the  cloth,  or 
near  John’s  plate.  Your  girls  and  boys  will  soon  get  the  habit  of 
seeking  buds,  grasses,  autumn  leaves,  etc.,  as  seasons  change  and 
serve,  thus  relieving  you  of  serious  thought  on  the  subject,  and 
reducing  the  expense  to  a minimum. 

In  nothing  express  yourself  with  more  distinctness  than  in  the 
maintenance  of  a certain  state  in  the  serving  and  in  the  partakings 
of  family  meals.  Drill  servants  patiently  in  decorous  forms  of 
supplying  the  wants  of  those  who  are  seated.  As  patiently  exact 
from  each  of  the  latter  as  much  propriety  of  demeanor  as  if  a 
duchess  presided  at  the  head  of  the  table,  instead  of  the  hard-worked 
woman  who  has  caught  no  glimpse  of  a higher  mission  than  this 


42 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


stitch-line-and-step  existence.  Magnify  your  office,  and  never  fear 
lest  you  may  not  rise  with  it. 

Much  of  the  slovenly  serving  and  free-and-easy  table  manners 
conspicuous  in  households  where  we  have  a right  to  look  for  better 
things,  is  due  to  the  circumstance  that  but  one  servant — perhaps 
none — was  kept  by  the  mother  in  the  earlier  years  of  her  married 
life.  By  the  time  she  could  afford  to  hire  “ a girl,”  the  domestic 
routine  was  established.  Hence  it  is  that  “father”  digs,  if  his 
carver  be  sharp,  slashes,  if  it  be  dull,  into  the  mountainous  roast 
in  front  of  him  ; plunges  a spoon  into  potato,  or  bean,  or  turnip  dish 
to  the  right  and  left ; deposits  a share  of  each  edible  on  the  recep- 
tacle lie  is  loading,  and  when  it  is  teeming  to  the  uttermost  edge, 
stretches  his  arm  to  its  full  length  to  thump  the  mess  at  the  owner’s 
place.  He  goes  through  the  de-appetiMng  performance  with  grim 
dexterity  acquired  by  long  practice  and  the  celerity  of  a ravenous 
man  whose  turn  always  comes  last.  Peas,  beans,  apple  and  cran- 
berry sauce,  cabbage,  tomatoes,  green  com — whatever  is  sweet  or 
succulent — are  dispensed  in  the  saucerlings  indigenous  to  provin- 
cial America,  which  environ  the  major  trencher  as  moons  attend  a 
planet. 

Vulgar  profusion,  rapidly  distributed,  and  disposed  of  with  a 
certain  “ quick-or-you-will-miss-it  ” liveliness,  are  the  only  mles 
that  govern  such  “ feeds.”  Young  children  enjoy  the  license  to 
satisfy  hunger  in  animal  fashion,  and,  it  may  be  added,  often  carry 
through  life  the  uncomely  tricks  thus  contracted.  As  the  girls 
grow  into  womanhood,  and  become  conversant  with  the  customs  of 
polite  society,  they  sigh  that  “ we  do  not  live  as  decent  people  do.” 
College  sons  draw  down  the  thunders  of  paternal  ire  by  sneers  at 
the  “ scramble  for  grub,”  and  do  not  affect  to  conceal  that  they  are 
ashamed  of  home  and  the  parents  to  whom  they  are  indebted  for 


THE  DINING-ROOM,  MEALS  AND  SERVING/  43 

the  education  that  has  revealed  to  themselves  the  blemishes  in 
their  early  breeding.  ^ 

“ Mothers  over  fifty  years  old  are  a nuisance  and  ought  to  be 
abated  by  law,”  I heard  a worthy,  and,  not  an  illiterate  woman 
say  when  it  was  forced  upon  her  that  her  brood  had  grown  away 
from  her.  “ They  have  no  right  to  live  after  their  children  are 
able  to  take  care  of  themselves  and  to  despise  the  ways  in  which 
they  were  brought  up.  Not  that  I would’nt  alter  things  to  suit 
them,  even  at  my  age,  if  I could.  But  Father  is  a hopeless  subject. 
Somehow,  men  settle  down  harder  than  we  do.  He  says  that  he 
left  school  forty  years  ago,  and  is’nt  going  to  enter  again,  now.  I’m 

afraid  ” with  a sort  of  weary  wistfulness  that  went  to  my  heart 

— “ the  mistake  was  mine.  It  did’nt  seem  worth  while  to  be  par- 
ticular about  the  little  matters  which  I see  now,  when  it  is  too  late 
to  correct  mistakes,  were  not  trifles.” 

One  simple  and  excellent  measure  towards  the  avoidance  of 
stubborn  “ settling  ” in  the  matter  of  table  etiquette  is  to  train 
children  to  act  as  waiters  when  there  is  no  servant  to  fulfill  the 
duties  of  that  office.  The  mother  should  keep  herself  informed  as 
far  as  possible,  as  to  the  latest  and  best  methods  of  setting  and 
serving  the  table,  and  interest  her  assistants  in  carrying  these  into 
practice  in  her  modest  menage^  each  of  the  juniors  taking  his  or  her 
turn,  according  to  a system  of  rotation  arranged  by  her.  Little 
girls,  in  particular,  take  eager  delight  in  such  details  and  pride  in 
acting  their  parts  well,  but  you  should  not,  on  this  account,  excuse 
the  boys  from  their  apprenticeship.  They  will  make  more  considerate 
sons,  brothers,  and  husbands  for  this  bit  of  experimental  knowledge 
of  housewifery.  Such  service  and  the  amicable  emulation  growing 
out  of  it  when  the  business  is  transacted  with  spirit,  help  educate 
children  by  overcoming  the  bashfulness  arising  from  self-conscious- 
ness, and  by  engendering  the  habit  of  courteous  attention  to  the 


44 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


wants  of  others.  Your  daughter  will  better  conduct  the  affairs  of 
the  handsome  establishment  which  may  be  hers,  some  day,  for 
the  practice  she  has  had  in  a subordinate  position.  It  will  not 
derogate  from  3^our  boy’s  manliness  that  he  can  pass  a 2)late  with- 
out emptying  the  contents  into  his  neighbor’s  lap,  fill  a tumbler 
without  slopping  the  water  over  the  cloth,  and  even  brandish  a 
crumb-scraper  with  the  address  of  a “ professional.” 

When  your  aids  are  amateurs,  or  when  a maid  of  all  work  must 
be  summoned  by  the  call-bell  from  the  kitchen  or  attic  to  shift  the 
courses,  it  is  advisable  to  set  the  dishes  of  vegetables  as  well  as 
meat,  bread-tray,  butter  and  whatever  else  is  needed  for  the  course 
in  progress,  on  the  table.  In  these  circumstances,  let  the  person 
nearest  a side  dish  do  the  honors  of  the  same,  “ helping  ” it  out 
neatly  and  judiciously.  Most  regularly  trained  waiters,  in  this  day, 
prefer  to  pass  entrees  and,  indeed  nearly  everything  else,  from  the 
side-board.  The  method  involves  less  reaching  over  and  between 
those  who  are  seated,  and  fewer  circuits  on  the  part  of  the  official 
on  duty. 

As  a rule  of  wide  and  general  application, — do  not  be  afraid  of 
innovations.  The  world  in  which  we  live  is  learning  new  and  easier 
ways  of  doing  old  things  every  day.  If  there  is  a better  rule  by 
which  to  order  your  labor  than  the  one  taught  to  you  by  your  mother, 
you  do  not  dishonor  her  memory  in  adopting  it.  People  are  as 
virtuous  and  healthy  now  as  before  telephones  and  potato-peelers 
were  invented,  and  when  four-tined  forks  were  unknown  except  in 
the  mansions  of  “ the  quality.”  Nevertheless,  consider  the  reluct- 
ance of  the  mind  masculine  to  receive  an  untried  system,  the  slow- 
ness with  which  it — in  common  with  other  great  natural  forces — 
adjusts  itself  to  change,  and  introduce  improvements  tactfully. 
For — John — let  it  never  be  forgotten, — is  not  only  a vertebrate  animal 
and  a fellow  creature — but  he  is — JOHN ! 


J 


THE  DINING-ROOM,  MEALS  AND  SERVING.  47 

Home,  with  its  inmates,  is  your  world— your  canvas — your 
sculptor’s  clay.  It  may  be  only  a tin  cup  in  the  eyes  of  strangers. 
Let  the  etching  be  clear,  and  the  design  an  expression  of  yourself 
at  your  worthiest—what  you  would  be^  rather  than  v/hat  you  are. 


> 


Cottage-Furnishing, 


TO  the  word  cottage,”  in  this  connection,  is  to  be  applied  the 
first  definition  set  over  against  it  in  Webster: — “A  small 
habitation.”  It  does  not,  in  our  hands,  mean  a suburban 
villa,  trebly-storied,  with  far-spreading  roofs  and  towers 
flanked  by  conservatories,  and  stabling  for  twenty  horses.  Nor  a 
Queen  Anne  mansion  (pronounced  by  the  mistress,  as  the  supreme 
touch  of  aesthetic  mincingness — “An-ne,”)  breaking  up  with  hyphen- 
like suddenness,  the  continuity  of  a city  block, — a thing  of  buttresses 
and  gables ; amazing  comers  and  carving,  painted  windows  and 
fabulous  cost.  Nor  should  the  word  necessarily  suggest  the  Ameri- 
can rendering  of  the  modern  ornate  in  cottage-building  for  the 
million,  as  exhibited  in  town  and  hamlet  and  isolated  farmstead. 
Homes  where  the  unexpected  mns  riot  in  staircases,  bulging 
windows,  balconies  and  audacious  flights  of  color.  It  is  easy  to 
make  the  interior  of  such  habitations  picturesque.  It  is  as  frequently 
impossible  to  introduce  real  comfort  into  the  irregularly-shaped  cup- 
boards marked  in  the  plan  as  chambers — sometimes,  in  sarcastic 
courtesy,  as  “ living  rooms.”  Onr  cottage  may  be  rectangular  in 
form,  and  the  divisions  of  the  interior  commonplace  to  ugliness. 
I am  afraid  the  inside  walls  are  kalsomined,  and  it  may  even  be  that 
the  exterior  is  painted  white  with  green  blinds.  Why  people  who 


COTTAGE-FURNISHING. 


51 


have  eyes  to  be  blinded,  if  not  taste  capable  of  taking  offense,  should 
have  persisted  during  eight  generations,  in  rearing  these  obtrusive 
constructions  under  sapphire  skies  and  amid  groves  of  vividest 
verdure,  is  beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  lover  of  true  harmony. 
It  is  yet  more  strange  that  the  white,  glaring  walls  dotted  with 
unsympathetic  green  should  be  chiefly  affected  in  the  regions  where 
forests  are  leafless  for  half  the  year,  and  the  heavens  pale  as  from  the 
reflection  of  the  snow-shrouded  earth.  Let  this  pass  for  the  present. 
We  are  learning  and  practising  better  things. 

One  of  the  new  lessons  we  will  take  as  the  starting  point  and 
controlling  tint  of  our  cottage  furnishing.  We  are  forgetting  as 
fast  as  is  consistent  with  the  adhesive  properties  of  prejudice,  the 
tenet  that,  in  the  matter  of  upholstery,  ‘‘  heavy  ” and  “ handsome  ’’ 
are  synonyms.  Mahogany  has  refused  to  be  driven  from  the  field, 
although  pressed  hard  by  red  cherry,  but  hair-cloth  has  for  a season 
— we  would  fain  hope,  forever — bidden  the  world  of  fashion  fare- 
well. The  bedstead,  uncompromising,  yet  indispensable  obstacle 
to  the  graceful  negligence  with  which  we  would  like  to  dispose  our 
furniture  in  upper  rooms,  is  lighter  every  year,  and  ambles  from 
wall  to  wall  at  the  housewife’s  will,  more  readily  than  our  grand- 
mother’s arm-chair  ever  moved,  even  at  the  semi-annual  house-clean- 
ing. Our  cottager  will  practically  exscind  the  adjectives  “ massive  ” 
and  “ rich  ” from  her  vocabulary.  They  throw  everything  out  of 
joint,  and  become  her  modest  plenishing  as  ill  as  a remnant  of  her 
mother’s  brown  satin  brocade  would  accord  with  the  plump  pretti- 
ness of  the  wearer  were  it  made  into  a slip  for  the  cottager’s 
baby. 

To  begin  with  the  floors ; — respectable  manuals  of  economy  and 
sanitary  tirades  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding — the  practical 
housewife  who  keeps  but  one  maid-of-all-work  (and  that  one,  as 
likely  as  not,  herself)  shakes  her  head  doubtfully  over  the  recom- 


52 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


mendation  of  hard  wood  or  painted  floors  all  over  the  house.  The 
former  require  careful  treatment  and  much  polishing  to  keep  them 
in  really  excellent  order.  A scratch  from  a chair  roughly  pushed 
back  is  a blemish  not  easily  removed ; the  gradual  grind  and  grime 
of  passing  feet  into  the  grain  of  the  wood  are  a defacement  whicli, 
in  time,  involves  the  necessity  of  planing,  or  rubbing  down  with 
sandpaper.  Unless  properly  treated  from  the  first,  they  are  a 
grievance  to  eye  and  spirit. 

But  hard  wood  floors  are  seldom  seen  in  cheap  houses,  built  for 
sale  or  rent.  The  floors  in  your  habitation  are  probably  of  pine, 
the  boards  of  unequal  length,  the  cracks  between  them  wide.  You 
can  fill  the  fissures  with  putty,  and  by  applying  several  coats  of 
paint,  obtain  a smooth  surface. 

Our  sanitarian  says,  “ Having  done  this,  lay  down  rugs  here 
and  there,  which  may  be  shaken  every  day.’^ 

Unquestionably,  a carpet  that  is  not  swept  and  dusted  several 
times  a week  is  the  least  cleanly  of  floor  coverings.  There  is  as 
little  question  that  painted  floors  must  be  dusted  daily  and  washed 
weekly — oftener,  if  the  apartment  be  in  daily  family  use.  In  the 
kitchen  a painted  floor  is  almost  a necessity,  and  the  stated  scrub- 
bing is  taken  into  consideration  in  the  appointment  of  the  week’s 
work.  When  the  sum  of  this  task  is  multiplied  by  the  number  of 
rooms  in  your  house,  the  outlook  is  disheartening.  Before  offer- 
ing a solution  to  the  difficulty,  let  us  have  a word  more  together 
touching  carpets. 

For  many  years  the  array  of  tawdry  lengths  of  carpeting  that 
hang  with  a sort  of  nightmare  tapestry  at  the  fronts  of  “ bargain 
.shops,”  was  an  inscrutable  enigma  to  me.  Somebody  must  buy 
them,  or  the  display  would  not  be  perennial  and  the  exhibitors  still 
hopeful.  “ What  manner  of  men  and  women  deliberately  select 
and  pay  current  coin  for  the  pendant  horrors  ? ” is  a riddle  that 


COTTAGE-FURNISHING. 


53 


may  well  nonplus  a Grand  Street  or  Bowery  CEdipus.  Much  sur- 
vey of  country  taverns  and  third-rate  city  hotels  helps  one  to 
account  for  a majority  of  these  mysterious  disappearances.  “ Smart” 
cottages,  farm  houses  and  flats  are  responsible  for  the  rest.  It  is  not 
many  months  since  I was  taken  by  a thrifty  farmeress  out  of  the 
“ living  room,”  where  a small  figured  ingrain  carpet  of  subdued 
colors  harmonized  with  her  and  the  well-saved  furniture,  across  a 
hall  to  a locked  door.  Turning  the  key,  the  good  woman  threw  it 
open  with  an  air  Mrs.  Pullet  could  not  have  outdone  when  heading 
the  procession  bound  upon  the  memorable  pilgrimage  to  view  the 
new  bonnet  kept  in  the  locked  drawer  of  the  locked  wardrobe  of 
the  best  spare  bedroom — also  locked. 

“ I wanted  you  should  see  our  new  parlor  carpet,”  said  my  guide, 
hastening  to  unclose  the  shutters,  then  tip-toeing  back  to  the  thres- 
hold where  she  had  left  me. 

Her  husband,  married  daughter,  and  three  grandchildren  joined 
us  there,  and  all  gazed  at  The  Carpet.  There  were  two  large  par- 
lors connected  by  folding-doors.  It  must  have  taken  at  least 
seventy-five  yards  to  cover  the  floors.  If  the  average  bargain  in 
pseudo-Brussels  be  a nightmare,  this  particular  specimen  was 
delirium  tremens.  As  the  light  from  the  unbarred  windows  smote 
it,  it  seemed  to  leap  up  and  strike  me  in  the  face,  so  aggressive 
were  the  chromes,  vermilions,  blues  and  greens,  that  fought  for 
mastery  in  the  tormented  superficies  of  eighteen  by  forty  feet. 

“And  only  fifty  cents  a yard!”  the  owner  of  this  magnificence  was 
saying  when  I could  listen  to  her.  “Real  tay-pestry  body  Brusi-^A.^  ” 

“ You  see,”  explained  the  daughter,  “ it  was  an  old  pattern  and 
clean  out  of  style.  That  made  it  come  so  cheap.  To  my  mind, 
it’s  cheerfuller  and  more  tasty  than  the  fady  things  folks  chase 
after  now-a-days.” 


54 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Before  I could  do  more  than  remind  myself  that  such  coarse 
incongruity  had  never  been  in  style  with  people  of  just  tastes,  the 
father  added  his  tribute  : 

“ It’l  last  for  fifty  years,  seein’  we  never  use  the  room  to  set  in 
week  da3^s.  It  jes’  dooz  Mother’s  soul  good  to  set  in  that  ’ere  big 
chair  a-Snnday  afternoons  in  her  go-to-meetin’  close,  an’  read  her 
‘ Saints’  Rest.’  I tell  her  she’ll  never  get  nearer  heaven  in  this 
world.” 

“ Mother  ” was  a good  woman,  and,  I make  no  doubt,  could 
meditate  upon  the  glories  of  the  New  Jerusalem  with  her  feet  on 
that  blasphemy  of  the  loom,  when  my  unsanctified  imagination 
euggested  The  Inferno. 

Don’t  be  persuaded  into  buying  anytJimg  because  it  is  cheap. 
What  does  not  suit  you  dear  at  any  price.  Cheap  carpets 
are  the  most  serious  blund^i'  a housekeeper  can  make,  inasmuch 
as  they  last  forever  (in  a “ best  room  ”)  and  are  so  obvious 
while  they  are  here.  Since  you  cannot  afford  to  purchase  expen- 
sive ones,  get  none  unless  you  spread  a figureless  ingrain  on 
3^our  bedroom,  or  nursery,  or  wherever  the  baby  is  dressed  and 
plays,  and  where  you  sit  with  him  on  winter  days.  Carpeting  of 
this  kind  is  a yard  wide  and  the  best  costs  from  $i.oo  to  $1.25  per 
yard.  An  old  gold,  with  a border  of  scarlet  and  dull  blue,  is  pretty 
and  will  w^ar  well.  If  the  hall  is  trodden  by  many  feet  it  may  be 
wise  to  put  an  English  ingrain  (unfigured) — what  carpet-men  call 
“ filling  ” — on  that  floor  also.  In  choosing  colors,  remember  that 
dark  shades  show  dusty  foot-tracks  more  than  light'shades. 

Get  mattings  for  the  rest  of  the  house.  They  are  cheaper  than 
any  other  floor  covering,  ranging  from  twenty-five  to  fifty  cents  a 
yard  for  the  yard-wide  pieces  woven  in  different  colors,  less  for  the 
plain.  Moreover,  they  are  clean,  easily  kept  neat,  pretty,  and  just 
now,  fashionable.  Besides  the  yellowish  and  bluish-white,  and  that 


COTTAGE-FURNISHING. 


57 


interspersed  by  cubes  of  red,  wliicb  were  tbe  only  varieties  known  to 
our  mothers,  we  are  now  offered  deep  red,  olive,  orange-and-black, 
blue,  blue  and  gray,  and  many  other  combinations  of  hues.  The 
damask  mattings,”  all  of  which  are  “jointless,”  that  is  without  the 
protruding  ends  of  twine-warp  on  the  under  side, — are  more  costly. 

Olive  would  look  well  in  your  parlor,  red  in  the  guest  chamber. 
In  your  bedroom  and  the  family  living  room,  a mingled  pattern  in 
fine  lines  will  be  most  serviceable.  Red-and-white  will  brighten  a 
basement — ^or  otherwise  depressed — dining  room.  Whatever  you 
have  there,  lay  a large  rug  or  drugget  over  it  that  the  dragging  of 
chairs  over  the  woven  straw  may  not  fray  it  into  holes. 

It  is  considered  necessary  to  hang  Holland  shades  at  all  front 
windows,  but  you  need  not  have  them  at  the  back  of  the  house  if 
you  prefer  to  use  in  some  other  way  the  money  they  would  cost. 
Cream-colored,  or  ecru,  is  preferable  to  dead  white.  Blue  and  green 
are  not  to  be  thought  of.  Do  not  let  a fashion  that  must  be  short- 
lived betray  you  into  the  purchase  of  the  mustard-colored  shades, 
ghastly  without  and  within,  which  impart  a jaundiced  com- 
plexion to  rows  of  city  and  village  houses. 

For  inner  curtains,  get  scrim,  or  make  those  for  the  parlor  of 
soft  muslin  trimmed  with  inserting  and  edge  of  antique  lace.  Plain 
cheese-cloth  at  six  cents  a yard,  is  less  vulgar  than  Nottingham 
lace,  associated  as  it  is  with  steam-boat  saloons  and  cheap  flashiness 
of  all  kinds.  Turkey-red  curtains,  hung  from  rods  and  rings,  and 
banded  with  cretonne  of  good  contrasting  colors,  will  go  well  with 
the  bright  matting  in  your  spare  chamber.  Drape  every  window  with 
something.  This  done,  and  the  matting  down,  the  cottage  is  half- 
fitted  up. 

In  choosing  from  the  extensive  variety  of  “cottage-sets”  offered 
for  sale,  give  preference  to  native  woods  above  those  coated  with 
paint.  White-wood  (poplar)  maple,  cherry,  ash  and  oak  are  all  pretty, 


58 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


and  not  expensive  except  as  they  are  made  so  by  carvings  and  other 
ornaments.  The  questions  of  stability  and  graceful  shapes  take 
precedence  of  showiness.  See  that  bureau-drawers  run  smoothly, 
and  that  mirrors  are  clear  and  well  set.  For  the  chambers,  select 
bedsteads,  bureaus  and  wash  stands,  and  do  not  take  chairs  which  are 
almost  invariably  stiff  and  uncomfortable.  A Shaker  or  rattan 
rocker,  and  two  or  three  odd  seats,  including  a couple  of  straw 
chairs  (at  $2.50  apiece)  will  serve  your  purpose  better  than  four  or 
six  ugly  affairs  that  “ come  with  the  sett.”  The  technical  affectation 
of  the  double  t gives  unintentional  point  to  the  rigidity  of  the  idea. 
It  is  no  longer  needful,  and  it  never  was  sensible  to  have  every 
article  of  furniture  in  the  room  repeat  the  exact  features  of  the  rest 
of  the  family.  Be  heedful  that  your  colors  agree,  the  one  with  the 
other,  and  that  no  piece  puts  the  rest  to  shame  by  a feint  of  splendor, 
then,  in  grouping  and  general  effect,  write  YOURSELF — your  mark — 
over  and  again.  This  do  without  slavish  deference  to  the  upholsterer, 
or  dread  of  the  criticism  of  your  most  particular  friend,  whose  income 
being  ten  times  larger  than  yours,  authorizes  her  to  cultivate  a just 
taste.  Bryant’s  “ Death  of  the  flowers  ” is  as  perfect  in  its  way  as 
“ Thanatopsis.”  Have  your  “ way,”  and  do  not  mar  it  by  ambitions. 
If  you  have  but  one  parlor,  let  that  be  a library.  Whatever  else 
may  go  out,  “ books  that  are  books  ” are  always  in.  Aristocrats 
ingrain,  they  dignify  whatever  they  touch.  I marvel  much  that 
parvenus  are  so  slow  in  discovering  this,  so  crudely  short-sighted  in 
banishing  the  only  patrician  element  in  their  houses  from  the  rooms 
ill  which  they  dwell,  and  are  seen  of  visitors.  A book-case  stocked 
with  classics  that  have  evidently  been  read,  is  a better  patent  of 
nobility  to  the  eye  of  the  initiated  than  a family  coat-of-arms. 
Works  of  standard  fiction,  poetry,  essays — scattered  here  and  there, 
on  mantel  or  table,  are  a guarantee  of  refinement  such  as  diamonds, 
laces  and  catch-words  of  art  and  society  cannot  offer. 


COTTaGE-FURNISHING. 


6i 


Fill  the  recesses  on  each  side  of  the  mantel  with  breast-high 
book-shelves  ; establish  a reading  corner  within  arm’s  length  of  one 
set  of  them ; supply  it  with  the  cosiest  chair  you  own,  a footstool, 
table — draped  with  a tasteful  cloth — reading  lamp,  paper-cutter  and 
ink-stand.  • A dictionary  stand,  also  within  reach,  is  convenient — 
and  effective. 

Should  the  room  be  small,  have  furniture  of  corresponding 
dimensions.  Bulky  articles  lessen  the  apparent  size.  A bamboo 
settee,  heaped  at  one  end  with  soft  cushions  covered  with  Turkey- 
red  and  pale  blue,  or  olive,  is  more  elegant  because  it  is  in  keeping 
with  the  parlor  and  its  appointments,  than  a big  sofa,  which  is, 
perforce,  a fixture  between  the  windows,  or  at  the  far  side  of  the 
apartment,  there  being  no  other  space  adequate  to  contain  it. 

If  you  have  a knack  for  domestic  upholstery — and  this  may  be 
acquired — the  convenience  and  beauty  of  your  home  can  be  greatly 
enhanced  at  little  cost.  I do  not  recommend  the  endeavor  detailed 
and  illustrated  by  so  many  writers  in  domestic  journals,  to  furnish 
an  entire  cottage  without  other  materials  than  a few  packing-cases, 
sawed-down  barrels,  a hundred  yards  or  thereabouts  of  chintz,  a load 
of  hay,  and  mother-wit  at  discretion.  The  results  of  obedience  to 
the  directions  set  forth  by  these  economists  look  well — on  paper. 

But  trunk  lounges  are  valuable,  and  may  be  pretty  in  a habita- 
tion where  chambers  are  small  and  closets  few.  A stout  dry  goods 
box  will  do  for  a foundation  if  you  can  procure  one  of  the  right 
size.  The  top  must  be  strongly  hinged,  and  braced  by  nailing  strips 
of  wood  transversely  on  the  lower  side.  Make  a bag  of  sacking  or 
burlaps,  one  side  half  an  inch  wider  and  longer  than  the  box-lid, 
after  allowing  for  seams,  the  upper,  two  inches  wider  all  around,  the 
fullness  being  pleated  in  neatly  at  the  corners.  Leave  one  end  open, 
fill  loosely  with  “ excelsior,”  or  jute  ; tack  down  through  the  seams 
on  three  sides  of  the  outer  edges  of  the  lid,  and  finish  the  stuffing 


62 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


through  the  open  end,  packing  the  jnte  in  with  a stick  until  it  is 
smooth  and  compact.  Nail  down  the  open  end  of  the  bag  and  cover 
all  with  another  piece  of  burlaps,  tacked — except  at  the  hinged 
back,  to  the  under  side  of  the  lid,  the  edges  of  the  stuff  being  turned 
in  neatly.  Draw  this  tightly  to  leave  no  bulges  or  wriukles  in  the 
cushion.  Cover  the  outside  of  the  box  with  the  burlaps  or  other 
stout  material.  Finally,  stretch  and  tack  chintz,  cretonne,  or  some 
momie  cloth  evenly  over  the  top  and  the  sides  of  the  box.  ‘If  the  inside 
is  not  clean  and  smooth,  line  with  wall  paper  pasted  in  neatly. 

A large  trunk  lounge,  somewhat  low  and  broad,  is  useful  as  a 
seat  and  a receptacle  for  blankets,  linen,  and  thin  dresses  that  lose 
crispness  when  hung  in  a closet.  Smaller  onejk  do  duty  as  shoe 
boxes  and  catchalls  for  odds  and  ends.  A cheese  box,  treated  as 
above  described,  makes  a nice  footstool  and  a lurking-place  for 
Papa’s  ” and  “ the  boys’  ” slippers. 

In  the  bath  room,  set  a trunk  lounge  of  fair  size  in  which  to 
keep  soiled  clothes.  Have  a strong  top  made  by  a carpenter  for  the 
bath  tub,  fitting  securely  on  the  wooden  frame  enclosing  it.  Tack 
upon  this  lid  a cushion  like  that  prepared  for  the  lounge,  cover 
with  momie  cloth  or  cretonne,  and  keep  it  on  the  tub  when  the 
latter  is  not  in  use.  By  this  simple  device  the  unsightly  yawn  of 
the  interior  is  masked,  and  the  tub  is  kept  clean.  The  lid  can  easily 
be  lifted  on  or  off  as  occasion  requires. 

This  is  but  one  of  the  many  means  by  which  feminine  tact  and 
dexterity  may  take  off  the  rougher  edges  of  the  Strictly  Useful, 
without  descending  to  the  inanities  of  decorated  rolling-pins  and 
flat-irons.  For  bed  coverings,  buy  cheap  white  counterpanes,  and 
affect  no  finery  in  the  direction  of  imitation  lace  spreads  lined  with 
colored  cambric.  If  you  cannot  afford  fine  china,  get  Japanese 
ware,  choosing  the  prettiest  quaintnesses  your  means  will  allow.  It 
is  by  no  means  advisable  to  have  all  of  the  same  pattern.  In  this 


COTTAGE-FURNISHING.  63 

respect  as  in  many  otHer  departments  of  house  fnmisliing,  Mot- 
ley’s the  only  wear  ” approved  by  fashion. 

Lastly — shun  the  extremes  of  scantiness  and  crowding.  ^‘Clut- 
tering ” is  a fault  too  common  with  those  who  do  their  own  plenish- 
ing, and  are  solicitous  to  make  modest  means  go  far.  An  incon- 
secutive jumble  of  useless  ornament  in  drawing  room  or  cottage 
parlor  always  reminds  me  of  the  man,  who,  hopeless  of  mastering 
the  mysteries  of  punctuation,  wrote  his  letters  without  stops,  long 
or  short,  and  added  at  the  close,  several  lines  of  commas,  semi- 
colons, periods,  dashes,  exclamation  and  interrogation  points, 
bidding  his  correspondents  “ pepper  and  salt  to  suit  themselves.” 

Let  your  seasoning  be  well  distributed,  relishful,  and  your  very 
own — not  another’s. 


Licensed  Beggar,  or  Business  Partner? 


LOVELESS  marriage  is  legalized  crime.  IVIarriage  entered 
upon  without  just  appreciation  of  mutual  relations  and 
f ^ obligations  is  folly  so  grave  as  to  approximate  sin. 
^ Romance-makers  and  consumers  have  had  their  own 

way  with  respect  to  the  second  of  these  conditions  so  long  that  gen- 
erations of  common-sense  teaching  will  hardly  suffice  to  set  loving 
hearts  and  light  heads  right  as  to  this  most  important  of  earthly 
alliances.  People  who  see  clearly  both  sides  of  other  practical 
issues,  descry  here  no  neutral  ground  on  which  those  who  have 
known  for  themselves  the  mistakes  of  youth  and  the  trials  of 
maturity,  may  stand  to  parley  with  others  who  are  emulously  pres- 
sing forward  to  cross  the  frontier  of  the  New  World  which  is  the 
Old.  With  the  young,  inability  to  reason  where  love  and  wedlock 
are  involved,  amounts  to  passionate  intolerance  of  dissuasive 
counselors. 

It  is  not  true  that  society  is,  on  the  point  under  discussion, 
divided  into  two  classes — optimists  who  advocate  and  exalt  married 
state,  and  pessimists  who  slander  it.  Allow  me,  as  one  of  the  much 
misunderstood  middle-aged  counselors  aforesaid  to  make  one  thing 
clear  at  the  outset  of  our  talk.  Speaking,  not  only  for  one  woman, 
but  many,  and,  as  I believe,  for  many  men,  I strike  deep  as  the 
first  stake  to  which  our  measuring  line  is  to  be  tied,  the  assertion 

f,  64 


LICENSED  BEGGAR,  OR  BUSINESS  PARTNER?  65 

that  the  truest  happiness,  the  purest,  most  satisfying,  as  it  is  the 
most  enduring,  for  both  sexes,  is  to  be  found  in  marriage.  Further- 
more, I venture  the  opinion  that  a larger  proportion  of  such  unions 
is  happy  than  miserable.  Now  and  then,  one  happens  in  his  daily 
walk  of  life,  upon  what  may  be  called  an  Ideal  Marriage. 
One,  in  which  perfect  congruity  of  mind,  heart,  taste  and 
fientiment  exists  and  has  its  perfect  work.  Each  of  us  sees 
perhaps  half-a-dozen  such  in  the  course  of  a life-time  of 
tolerable  length — visions  that  keep  alive  within  us,  as  arbutus  buds 
hold  the  germs  of  bloom  under  northern  snows,  some  sweet  rem- 
nants of  faith  in  that  sublimest  of  philanthropist’s  dreams  — the 
ultimate  perfectibility  of  the  human  race.  Many  more  couples  rest 
content,  with  a nice,  every-day  satisfaction  that  prevents  fancy  from 
straying  into  forbidden  fields,  in  the  belief  that  each  of  the  twain  is 
better  suited  to  the  other  than  he,  or  she  could  be  to  any  one  else. 
But  the  great  majority,  being  mated,  do  not  trouble  their  wits  with 
bootless  speculations  as  to  the  exactness  of  the  match,  and  rub 
comfortably  along  together.  Ups  and  downs  there  are,  sometimes, 
not  a few.  Bruises  thus  received  ache  longer  than  they  are  com- 
plained of ; an  old  sprain  never  gets  over  the  trick  of  twinging  in 
certain  states  of  the  weather ; there  is  even  an  old  scar  or  two  under 
lace  ’kerchief  or  diamond-studded  shirt  front.  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, husbands  and  wives  are  less  dissatisfied  and  do  not  quarrel  so 
often  as  would  brothers  and  sisters,  if  obliged  to  live  together  all 
their  lives  with  indissoluble  community  of  interests.  The  Honor- 
able Estate  is  justified  of  her  children,  nor  is  the  imprint  of  the 
Divine  Founder  effaced  beyond  recognition  and  interpretation.  This 
chapter  then,  is  not  even  a remote  head  of  an  “ improvement  ” of 
Punch’s  famous  text  “ for  the  consideration  of  persons  contemplat- 
ing marriage  ” — It  is  because  a good  thing  is  so  good 
that  we  who  believe  in  it  would  make  it  better,  if  possible.  Because 


66 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


the  black  spot  of  decay  is  bitterest  in  exquisitely  flavored  fruit,  we 
bemoan  its  appearance  there. 

If  I were  asked — “ What,  to  the  best  of  yonr  belief,  is  the  most 
prolific  and  general  source  of  heart  burnings,  contention,  harsh 
judgment  and  secret  unhappiness  among  respectable  married  people 
who  keep  up  the  show  even  to  themselves,  of  reciprocal  affection  ? ” 
my  answer  would  not  halt  for  an  instant.  It  has  been  ready  for 
thirty  years. 

The  crying  need  of  a right  nintnal  understanding^  with  respect  to 
the  right  oivnership  of  the  family  income. 

It  has  drawn  more  women  into  shame  than  all  the  gallant,  gay 
Lotharios  ever  born  ; driven  more  into  their  graves  than  drunken- 
ness and  brutality.  The  sandals  of  the  thought-reading  Diogenes 
would  be  worn  out  and  his  lantern  rusted  into  a tattered  sheath 
before  success  would  reward  his  quest  in  city  mart  and  country 
high-ways  for  a wife  who  never  smarted  under  the  scorpion  lash. 

“The  smart  is  unreasonable?”  To  the  last  degree,  my  dear 
John,  red  with  generous  ire  at  the  thought  that  my  sweeping  gener- 
alization may  comprise  her  “ who  is  to  him  a second  soul,” — “ the 
custodian  of  the  archives  of  his  heart.” 

Both  phrases  are  borrowed  for  the  occasion.  One  from  the 
eloquent  sermon  of  a widower  who  found  far  more  comfort  in  speak- 
ing of  his  dead  wife  than  to  her  while  living.  The  second  from  an 
oration  delivered  by  an  eminent  lawyer  who  occupied  the  same  house 
as  that  which  held  the  custodian  of  his  archives,  but  presumably  had 
no  new  deposits  to  make,  since  he  allowed  weeks  to  pass  without  see- 
ing her,  except  at  meal  time.  But  the  John  with  whom  we  have  to 
do  is  honest,  and  in  very  serious  earnest.  He  loves  his  wife,  believes 
in  her,  respects  her  most  heartily.  He  trusts  her  with  his  honor,  his 
children,  his  hopes  of  earthly  happiness.  For  what  has  he  to  live 
except  Mary  and  the  babies  ? ” 


LICENSED  BEGGAR,  OR  BUSINESS  PARTNER?  67 

Home  and  Wife  ! ” He  says  it  reverently  as  lie  might  quote 
holy  words.  When  he  uttered  at  the  altar — “ With  all  my  worldly 
goods  I thee  endow,”  he  meant  it,  down  to  the  sincere  bottom  of  his 
soul.  In  giving  her  himself,  he  gave  everything.  The  greater 
includes  the  less. 

“ Don’t  you  see  ? ” The  worthy  fellow  plants  himself  in  front  of 
the  essayist.  In  his  perplexed  eyes  there  is  no  guile,  his  speech  is 
seasoned  with  the  salt  of  directness. 

“ Don't  you  see  ? there  is  nothing  a man  enjoys  more  than  mak- 
ing his  family  happy  with  the  money  he  has  earned.  I keep  my 
wife  as  lavishly  supplied  as  my  means  will  permit.  I never  grudged 
her  a cent.  She  knows  I like  to  give  her  all  the  cash  I can  spare. 
Why  a woman  in  s uch  circumstances  should  mind  asking  her  hus- 
band for  money  when  she  needs  it  passes  the  masculine  comprehen- 
sion.” 

Every  word  of  the  declaration  has  the  force  of  an  af&davit. 
Some  men  say  as  much  and  more,  but  as  they  repeat  their  set 
prayers — because  the  form  is  decent  and  habitual.  Representative 
John  is  above  suspicion.  Emulating  his  frankness,  I reiterate  that 
Mary  is  unreasonable.  I add  that  in  this  infirmity  she,  too,  represents 
her  sex.  It  is  a marvel  that  centuries  of  custom  have  not  eradicated 
prejudice  from  our  minds.  It  is  more  wonderful  that  so  few  of  us 
have  divined  and  broadly  stated  the  cause  of  the  gnawing  discom- 
fort that  makes  the  bravest  and  most  loving  wife  sometimes  drop 
her  eyes  and  blush  burningly  wjien  her  lord  “ supplies  her  lavish- 
ly ” with  money  which,  he  reassuringly  tells  her,  he  has  earned 
purposely  that  she  might  have  the  pleasure  of  spending  it.  It  is 
most  surprising  that  men — analytical,  just,  magnanimous,  as 
thousands  of  them  are — should  not  be  taught  by  the  very  pleasure 
the  best  of  them  feel  in  thus  bestowing  largesse — the  complement 


68  HOUSE  AiNH  HOME. 

of  which  is  gratitude — what  is  the  root  (and  bitterness)  of  this 
unreason. 

Women  ought  not  to  object  to  being  considered  and  treated  as 
paupers.  But  they  do  ! 

The  youngest  brother,  always  beloved  of  the  fairies,  who  is  the 
winning  hero  in  the  story  of  The  White  Cat,  almost  lost  heart 
when  having  successively  cracked  walnut,  hazel-nut,  date,  and 
cherry-seed  and  grain  of  wheat,  he  came  to  the  millet-seed  in  the 
center  of  all.  “ But,”  we  read,  “ putting  it  to  his  ear,  he  heard  a 
faint  barking,  and,  gathering  courage,  he  cracked  the  millet-seed 
carefully  and  there  was  the  prettiest  little  dog  ever  beheld.” 

Our  millet-seed,  when  concentric  outer-layers  have  been  peeled 
away,  gives  up  as  black  and  ill-favored  a cur-ling  as  the  Prince  of 
Darkness  ever  sent  yelping  through  a sin-cursed  earth. 

Forma  Pauperis  f is  not  a tempting  class  motto  ; hardly  the 
legend  a free  born  immortal  would  select  to  bear  upon  his  phylac- 
tery. Yet  this  is  what  nine  thousand  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
out  of  every  ten  thousand  women  bind  on  brow  and  soul  with  the 
slipping  on  of  the  wedding-ring.  Man,  the  Bread-winner ; Woman, 
the  Bread-eater.  Man,  active  and  beneficent ; Woman,  passive  and 
grateful.  So  run  the  antitheses  ; so  ring  the  changes  in  the  old, 
old  hateful  story.  Having  let  escape  from  my  (feminine)  pen  the 
easing  blot  of  the  italicised  adjective,  let  me,  in  sober  sadness,  ask 
the  reader’s  consideration  of  a few  absolutely  true  illustrations  of 
the  working  of  the  principle  I have  formulated  as  mildly  as  is  con- 
sistent with  the  chronicler’s  duty.  ^ I premise  that  in  not  one  of  the 
instances  narrated,  all  of  which  have  fallen  under  my  personal 
observation,  was  complaint  of  the  husband  so  much  as  hinted  at. 
Herein,  to  my  apprehension,  is  the  most  pathetic  side  of  the  history. 
The  quiet  statement  of  a fact  outside  the  pale  of  criticism,  the 
naive  assumption  of  the  necessity,  that  while  the  king  can  do  no 


LICENSED  BEGGAR,  OR  BUSINESS  PARTNER?  69 

wrong,  his  subjects  must  live  in  some  fashion,  remind  me  of  what  I 
once  heard  a slave  woman  say,  when  commended  for  her  faithful 
care  of  her  master’s  children  and  asked  if  she  had  any  of  her  own : 

“ I done  had  six,  but  ole  marster,  he  los’  so  much  money  ten 
year  ago,  he  was  obleeged  fur  to  sell  ’em  all.” 

The  comparison  is  not  flattering.  Eet  us  hope  that  the  error  of 
taste  is  in  my  imagination. 

Before  dismissing  our  well-beloved  John,  and  proceeding  to  the 
survey  of  a series  of  much  less  interesting  portraits,  I offer  a story 
of  another  husband  of  another  type. 

Mrs.  A.,  a rich  and  most  Christian  lady,  in  paying  a delayed 
subscription  to  a charitable  society,  made  this  apology : ‘‘I  had  to 
wait  until  certain  dividends  of  my  own  fell  due.  I wanted  itTo  be 
my  very  own  gift.” 

The  treasurer  was  an  intimate  friend  and  there  was  no  one  else 
present.  Mrs.  A.  went  on  in  feigned  lightness  : 

“ You  are  saying  to  yourself  that  a woman  whose  father  settled 
a neat  fortune  on  her,  and  whose  husband  is  said  to  be  a millionaire, 
should  not  have  such  embarrassments.  Literally,*!  have  command 
of  but  five  hundred  dollars  a year  to  which  I feel  I have  undisputed 
claim.  This  comes  to  me  from  the  stock  I mentioned  just  now. 
The  notice  of  the  half-yearly  dividend  is  served  on  me  instead  of 
on  Charley,  and  I seize  the  opportunity  to  pay  my  charitable  debts 
before  he  can  inquire  if  the  notification  has  arrived.  I will  not 
deny  that  a little  scene  is  usually  the  result.  Being  masculine,  my 
dear  boy  cannot  see  why  I should,  as  he  phrases  it,  ‘ split  hairs  on 
this  point.’  ” 

‘ “ Don’t  I give  you  all  the  money  you  want?  ” he  pleads. 

‘ “ Yes,”  I answer,  ‘‘  and  more.” 

‘ “ Then,  my  love,  why  not  use  it  for  benevolent  purposes  ? ” 

‘ That  would  be  giving  of  your  substance,  not  mine,”  I reason. 


70  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

“He  shakes  liis  head.  “The  distinction  is  too  subtle  and  feminine 
for  me.  You  know  my  desire  that  the  property  willed  to  you  by 
your  father  may  be  allowed  to  accumulate  for  you  and  the  children. 
It  would  be  most  useful  should  I become  insolvent,’’  etc.,  etc. 

“ The  darling  old  bat  can’t  see  that  he  is  depriving  me  of  the 
privilege  he  esteems  so  highly  for  himself — the  blessedness  of  being 
liberal.  So,  I remain  disobedient,  and  hide  the  sin  when  I can. 
We  have  Scriptural  warrant  for  not  letting  the  right  hand  know 
what  the  left  hand  does.  Charley  is  my  right  hand.” 

Mrs.  B.,  Irish  laundress,  aged  sixty,  sober,  diligent  and  honest, 
mystified  me  one  day  by  asking  that  I would  not  “ find  it  convay- 
nient  to  pay  more  nor  sivinty-five  cints  a day  for  a matther  of  three 
months  or  so.  Thin,  mem,  come  the  holidays ; I’ll  thrust  ye  to 
sthraighten  the  account.  Jist  now,  wages  is  fell  all  over.  There’ll 
be  no  questions  asked.” 

When  she  left  the  room  the  chambermaid  explained  that  Mr.  B. 
drank  hard,  and  to  this  end  demanded  his  wife’s  earnings.  The 
old  lady  had  in  charge  two  orphan  grandchildren  to  whom  she 
wished  to  give  shoes  at  Christmas.  Hence  the  pious  fraud. 

The  case  of  Mrs.  C.  comes  in  here  apropos  to  Christmas  gifts. 
Her  husband  is  one  of  the  richest  young  men  in  a flourishing  New 
England  town.  She  was  the  pretty  daughter  of  a country  clergy- 
man. Lest  the  novel  delight  of  having  money  to  handle  should 
be  too  much  for  her,  he  put  on  the  auditing  brake.  • She  might  order 
whatever  was  used  in  the  elegant  establishment  of  which  she  was 
nominally  mistress,  but  he  would  look  over  all  the  bills  before 
giving  her  money  with  which  to  pay  them.  At  the  end  of  the  first 
year — they  were  married  during  the  holidays — the  poor  child  went 
home  for  a Christmas  visit,  empty-handed.  Like  many  other  rich 
men’s  wives,  she  had  not  a penny  of  pin-money.  Even  her 
street  car  fares  were  paid  with  tickets  furnished  by  her  lord. 


LICENSED  BEGGAR,  OR  BUSINESS  PARTNER?  73 


At  the  dawn  of  the  second  twelvemonth,  a happy  inspiration 
visited  her.  Her  butcher  rendered  his  weekly  account  in  pencil, 
on  loose  leaves  torn  from  a memorandum-block.  Each  of  these 
was  ingeniously  doctored  before  it  was  submitted  to  the  auditor.  A 
cent  per  pound  was  added  here,  half-a-cent  there,  delicacies  were 
taxed  in  proportion  to  season  and  rarity,  and  the  sum  total  con- 
firmed the  evidence  of  the  items.  She  boasted  gleefully  to  her  sis- 
ter, who  was  her  confidante,  that  she  had  several  times  pocketed 
$1.50,  twice,  $2.00  a week  by  the  ruse.  Each  member  of  the  par- 
sonage family  had  a token  at  Christmas  tide  from  the  lucky 
daughter  and  sister  who  had  drawn  a prize  in  the  matrimonial 
lottery. 

Mrs.  D.  sat  so  near  me  at  a “ Board  meeting  one  day  that  I 
overheard  her  voluble  preference  for  giving  “ goods  ’’  towards  fur- 
nishing the  new  hospital,  rather  than  money. 

“You  know,”  she  said  with  a jolly,  unctuous  giggle  to  the  sec- 
retary “ my  husband  is  the  kindest  creature  in  the  world,  but  he 
does’nt  believe  in  charities.  He  is  as  liberal  as  can  be  about  the 
housekeeping  and  so  forth,  only  he  insists  on  paying  the  bills 
himself.  He  says  that  women  are  not  fit  to  be  trusted  with  more 
than  fifty  cents  at  a time.  My  husband  will  always  have  his  joke. 
Now,  he  will  never  know  that  the  piece  of  sheeting  I shall  send 
here  is  not  used  at  our  house.  Nor  the  table-cloth  and  napkins.” 

The  good  soul’s  relish  of  the  two-fold  pleasure  of  charity  and 
of  outwitting  her  close-fisted  spouse  was  edifying — if  the  beholder 
chanced  to  like  that  sort  of  thing. 

Mrs.  E.,  refined  in  sensibilities  a d a fond  parent,  submitted  a 
case  of  ethics  to  a motherly  friend.  Her  daughter  has  a passion 
for  music  and  is  already  a brilliant  pf  rformer.  Her  father  thinks 
she  knows  enough  of  the  art  and  declines  to  spend  more  money  in 
tuition  fees.  The  better  educated  wife,  sympathizing  with  the  girl’s 


74 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


desire  to  be  tlioroiigli,  pays  without  his  knowledge,  for  lessons  from 
a distinguished  professor,  saving  the  money  out  of  the  allowance 
placed  in  her  hands  for  marketing. 

“ I hope  it  is  not  wrong,”  she  faltered  in  making  the  confession. 
“ It  does  seem  as  if  nobody  is  defrauded.  The  allowance  is  very 
liberal  and  I am  careful  to  keep  a good  table.  The  thing  which 
troubles  my  conscience  is  that  niy  girl  is  privy  to  a deception 
practised  by  her  mother  on  her  father.” 

Mrs.  F.’s  husband  tells  the  following  anecdote  of  his  early  mar- 
ried life  as  a lesson  to  other  thoughtless  Benedicts : 

“ It  never  occurred  to  me  that  my  wife  might  need  to  buy  new 
clothes.  Yet  I knew  that  women  went  shopping,  and  might  have 
reflected  that  even  so  bountiful  a trousseau  as  hers  could  not  last  for- 
ever. Nor  did  the  thought  that  she  might  want  a few  cents  for  carfares 
caramels,  hair-pins  and  the  like,  present  itself  to  my  stupid  mind. 
We  boarded  at  a hotel,  had  nice  rooms,  excellent  fare,  pleasant  society 
and  went  somewhere  every  evening.  My  little  womanwas  always  well 
dressed,  looked  happy,  and  gave  no  indication  of  the  impecuniosity 
that  was  playing  Spartan  fox  at  her  vitals.  One  evening,  more  than 
two  years  after  our  wedding  day,  I came  up  town  with  tickets  for  the 
opera  and  a bouquet  for  her  to  carry,  for  which,  I recollect,  I paid 
three  dollars.  She  made  one  excuse  after  another  for  declining  to  go 
and  when  all  were  overruled,  burst  into  tears,  and  confessed  that 
she  had  no  shoes  fit  to  wear  out-of-doors.  In  proof  of  this  she  showed 
file  her  best  boots  bunglingly  cobbled  by  her  poor  little  fingers. 

“Why  have’nt  you  bought  new  ones?”  asked  I,  naturally  enough. 
I never  shall  forget  the  piteous,  shame-faced  look  she  gave  me. 

“ I had  no  money,  dear.  The  fifty  dollars  mamma  put  into 
my  purse  when  I left  home  went  for  little  necessaries  long 
ago.  I tried,  again  and  again,  to  ask  you  for  more,  but  the  words 
would  not  leave  my  tongue.”  t 


LICENSED  BEGGAR,  OR  BUSINESS  PARTNER?  75 


The  reader  will  please  note  that  in  recounting  these  phases 
of  matrimonial  experience,  I refrain  from  commendation  or  from 
censure  of  the  feeling  that  moved  the  actors  to  diplomacy,  deception 
and  reserve. 

If  necessary,  I could  give  a hundred  instances  to  prove  how 
obstinate  and  universal  is  the  aversion  to  the  role  of  chronic  bene- 
ficiary, how  powerful  the  temptation  to  evade  it  by  every  device 
feminine  cunning  can  bring  to  bear  upon  the  situation. 

Let  us  look  at  the  matter  as  if  we  had  never  thought  of  it 
before.  Can  that  which  consolidates  the  best  women  of  the  land 
into  a guild  of  privileged  paupers  be  anything  but  an  evil  that  calls 
for  redress  ? This  particular  form  of  mendicancy  may  be  honorable 
in  all  things,  and  alleviated  in  a multitude  of  cases  by  the  tenderest 
assiduity  of  affection,  but,  in  the  estimation  of  their  husbands  and 
society — to  their  own  shamed  eyes — it  is  to  wives  dependence 
and  vassalage.  Ask  them  (when  their  lords  are  not  by)  one  and 
all,  leaving  out  the  ten  thousandth  woman  alluded  to  awhile  ago 
— how  they  like  it. 

Representative  John  conies  gallantly  to  the  front  once  more. 

Would  you  have  MY  WIFE  earn  her  own  living  ? ” 

Yes ! — emphatically. 

“ How  can  she  when  she  is  already  housekeeper,  wife,  mother, 
teacher,  nurse,  seamstress,  companion — to  say  nothing  of  general 
inspiration,  and  supreme  domestic  headlight  ? She  is  the  cleverest, 
pluckiest  woman  in  two  hemispheres,  but  the  duties  already  bound 
upon  her  consume  every  waking  hour.  She  has  not  a minute  she 
can  call  her  own.  There  isn’t  a man  in  town  who  works  so  hard 
and  so  well.” 

The  catechist — chivalrous  and  loyal  gentleman — has  all  unwit- 
tingly flattened  the  base  of  the  egg  until  it  stands  upright.  The 
woman  who  fills  nine  important  offices,  as  you  declare  this  one  does, 


76 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


earns  her  living  nine  times  over.  The  trouble  is  that  as  M.  Jour- 
dain  had  been  talking  prose  all  his  life  and  never  knew  it,  you  and 
Mary  have  never  appreciated  the  truth  that  she  is  more  than  self- 
supporting.  Face  the  fact  like  a man,  and  henceforth  keep  it  well 
before  her.  Forego  something  of  the  complacent  glow  of  conscious 
liberality,  and  accept,  instead,  the  calm  content  of  one  who  meets 
his  notes  when  due.  Or,  consider  that  you  two  constitute  a busi- 
ness firm,  and  pay  over  her  share  of  equitable  profits.  The  act  is  a 
just  partition,  not  a gift.  Don’t  remind  her,  when  you  throw  money 
into  her  lap  with  the  gesture  of  a sultan  to  a favorite  dancing-girl, 
that,  although  compelled  to  maintain  her,  you  are  so  fond  of  her 
that  you  do  not  grudge  the  expense.  Break  yourself  of  the  habit 
of  alluding  to  family  expenses  as  if  she  were  individually  respon- 
sible for  them,  and  for  the  family  as  well.  Some  excellent  husbands 
fall  into  this  tone.  It  is  a trick  of  the  trade  easily  caught,  and 
about  as  fair  as  it  would  be  to  drag  your  wife  into  a morass  and, 
when  she  is  stuck  last  in  the  mud,  to  thrash  her  with  .briers,  because 
your  boots  are  soiled  by  the  operation. 

To  epitomize  the  volume  that  might  be  penned  on  the  theme 
without  exhausting  it : — the  wife  who  acts  well  her  part  is  as  truly 
independent  as  is  the  husband.  She  has  a right  to  have,  to  hold, 
and  to  use  as  her  own,  a given  share  of  the  income.  Her  main- 
tenance, pin-money,  etc.,, are  debts  due  her,  not  benefactions  you 
are  to  be  praised  for  bestowing,  and  she  grateful  in  receiving.  Of 
these  things  she  should  be  made  aware  when  she  enters  the  firm. 
A true  woman  will  love  and  honor  her  partner  the  more  for  such 
frank  uprightness.  It  is  only  she  who  is  at  heart  a courtesan,  who 
fawns  upon  her  spouse  for  hire. 

But  Solomon  Grundy  has  a query : 

“ What  do  women  know  of  business  principles  and  methods  ? ” 

As  much — and  as  little — as  their  husbands  choose  to  teach  them. 


The  Etiquette  of  Family  Life. 

During  a recent  journey  by  rail  from  Boston  to  New  York, 
my  attention  was  drawn  to  a couple  whose  seats  in  the 
drawing-room  car  were  directly  across  the  aisle  from  mine. 
One  was  a young  girl,  pretty,  tastefully  clad,  and  refined 
in  tone  and  manner.  Her  escort  was  a few  years  her  senior,  good- 
looking,  well-behaved,  and  apparently  on  terms  of  friendly  intimacy 
with  his  fair  companion.  They  chatted  together  blithely  and 
naturally,  with  no  show,  on  one  side  of  coyness,  or  on  the  other 
of  love-making.  Their  bright  faces  were  a pleasant  resting-place 
for  other  eyes  as  well  as  mine,  as  I soon  became  aware  from  a low- 
toned  dialogue  going  on  j ust  behind  me. 

“ Stunningly  pretty  girl,’^  said  masculine  accents.  “And  a 
lucky  fellow.” 

“ He  is  apparently  of  the  same  opinion,”  answered  a woman^s 
voice.  “Are  they  brother  and  sister — do  you  think  ? ” 

“ He’s  too  devoted  by  half  for  that.  I’ve  been  watching  them 
all  the  way.  He  has  picked  up  her  fan  three  times,  and  never  told 
her  once  that  she  was  careless  to  drop  it.  Twice,  he  has  offered  to 
bring  her  a glass  of  water  ; four  times  has  he  put  up  the  window  at 
stations,  without  waiting  to  be  asked  to  do  it ; once,  he  inquired  if 
the  sun  hurt  her  eyes,  or  was  likely  to  give  her  a headache.  Not  a 
sign  of  the  fraternal  in  all  this.  Nor  is  she  a whit  more  sisterly. 

79 


8o 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


The  smile  that  thanks  him  for  his  attentions  settles  the  question 
beyond  a doubt.  She’s  another  fellow’s  sister,  you  may  be  sure.” 

“ Perhaps  they  are  married  ? ” 

“ Not  unless  this  is  their  wedding  trip.  That  sort  of  thing 
does’nt  flourish  after  the  honeymoon.” 

The  question  of  relationship  was  not  settled  in  my  hearing. 

The  incident  is  the  text  of  my  chapter  on  the  amenities  of 
everyday  home-life. 

Is  custom  the  parent  of  expectation,  or  does  expectation  beget 
the  ill-favored  custom  of  giving  our  second  best,  if  not  our  worst 
things — to  those  we  love  most  dearly  and  to  whom  we  owe  most  ? 
Or — to  put  the  query  differently — do  we  satisfy  ourselves  with 
having  deeded  to  them  once  for  all,  our  choicest  treasures  of  affect- 
ion, and,  the  oath  of  allegiance  taken,  hold  that  they  should  not 
exact  further  guaranty  of  the  fact  of  possession  ? 

Benjamin  Franklin’s  proposition  that  grace  said  over  the  barrel 
at  packing-time  should  do  away  with  the  tri-daily  blessing  of  boiled 
or  fried  pork,  forecast  the  passion  for  savings  of  all  kinds  which 
became  his  leading  characteristic.  In  the  matter  of  family  polite- 
ness, tens  of  thousands  of  his  fellow  country  people  put  the  thrifty 
boy’s  suggestion  into  daily  practice. 

Mr.  Philemon  Nemo  courted  his  Baucis  with  conventional  assid- 
uity of  devotion.  As  suitor  and  betrothed,  he  fell  short  in  none  of 
the  tender  arts,  supposed  by  each  newly  affianced  pair  to  be  indige- 
nous to  the  Elysian  groves  in  which  they  will  henceforward  have 
their  permanent  abiding  place — whereby  the  lover  sets  his  image 
in  the  highest  niche  of  his  mistress’  heart,  and  clamps  it  to  the 
pedestal.  His  behavior  in  the  various  trying  and  delicate  tests  to 
which  betrothal  subjects  the  wooer  who  has  won,  earned  the  plaudits 
of  relatives  and  neighbors.  He  lived,  perfunctorily,  yet  eagerly, 
only  in  her  smiles  ; watched  every  turn  of  the  eye,  studied  each  trick 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  FAMILY  LIFE. 


8i 


of  phrase  and  inflection,  that  he  might  meet  her  lightest  want  half 
way  in  the  expression  thereof.  Pet  names  and  caressing  words 
distilled  and  flowed  from  his  tongue  as  perfume  from  honeysuckle. 
When  he  stood  with  her  at  the  altar,  he  heaped  his  earthly  all — 
hopes,  loves,  life — a glad  oblation — upon  it.  Courtship  is  defined 
by  a social  satirist  “ as  a period,  long  or  short,  agreeably  spent  by 
two  people  in  deceiving  one  another  to  the  best  of  their  ability.” 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ph.  Nemo  would  have  frowned  down  the  bon  mot 
as  blasphemous  on  their  marriage  day.  Fifteen  years  later,  she 
smiles  significantly — an  arid,  bitter  meaning — at  reading  it,  and  he 
laughs,  somewhat  coarsely,  in  stumbling  upon  it  in  the  funny 
column  ” of  the  morning  paper,  “ guesses  that  is  just  about  the 
ticket,”  and  inquires  “ what  the  women  in  the  house  have  been 
about  all  the  morning,  that  his  breakfast  is  not  ready  ? ” 

They  have  fallen  by — to  them — imperceptible  degrees,  into  the 
matrimonal  habit  of  speaking  slightingly  of  romance  and  love. 
Neither,  to  do  them  justice,  means  any  real  disrespect  to  the  other. 
In  this  sort  of  cant — I would  still  be  just — the  husband  usually 
takes  the  initiative.  It  sounds  “ knowing  ” to  affect  to  despise 
former  enslavement,  to  regret  bachelor  freedom,  to  allude  to  himself 
as  the  victim  of  a passing  weakness.  In  very  jocose  moments  he 
talks  of  his  courtship  as  “ temporary  insanity.”  It  is  all  fun, 
however  he  may  word  it.  Baucis  might,  by  this  time,  be  sure 
enough  of  his  affection  to  understand  his  badinage. 

She  ought  to  know,  too,  that  when  he  objurgates  the  slotff 
fulness  of  the  “ women  in  the  house,”  he  refers  to  the  cook  and 
waitress,  and  not  to  her  flushed  and  nervous  self,  who,  m pouring 
out  his  coffee  spills  the  boiling  liquid  on  her  hand. 

“ How  can  you  be  so  careless  ! ” he  ejaculates,  in  serious  concern, 
disguised  under  pretended  displeasure. 


82 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


He  takes  as  much  trouble  to  mask  his  softer  emotions  at  this 
date  as  he  did  to  exhibit  them  in  that  “ insane  ” long  ago.  The 
lover  would  have  bounded  to  his  feet  and  rushed  off  for  healing 
lotion  and  bandages.  The  husband  resumes  the  study  of  his  paper 
when  she  has  said,  coldly,  that  “ it  is  a mere  nothing,”  wound  her 
handkerchief  about  the  scalded  member,  and  given  him  another  cup 
of  coffee.  The  pretty  foolishness  of  kissing  the  place  to  make  it 
well  is  never  thought  of  now  by  either.  They  “ have  got  beyond 
all  that.” 

Baucis  resigns  and  suffers  more  than  Philemon  in  the  exchange 
of  sweet  nonsense  for  matter-of-fact.  Sometimes,  she  dreams  over 
those  vanished  hours  ; wonders,  in  that  strange,  awful  constriction 
of  heart  women  know  so  well,  how  her  husband  can  ridicule  the 
memory,  as  if  it  were  an  illusion.  She  could  as  soon  make  a jest 
of  the  loss  of  the  little  child  that  drew  his  first  and  last  breath  in 
one  and  the  same  day.  Sentiment  dies  hard,  even  in  commonplace 
women.  If  men  knew  how  tender  and  warm  the  divine  folly  keeps 
their  wives’  hearts,  how  it  glorifies  the  humblest  home  and  refines 
menial  labor,  they  might,  sometimes,  out  of  sheer  pity,  forbear 
to  mock. 

There  are  other  children  now.  They  come  pelting  in  to  break- 
fast, jostling  one  another  in  their  hurry.  The  father  lowers  his 
paper  to  command  them  to  “ stop  their  racket.”  The  mother  frets 
that  they  are  “ always  late,  and  then  impatient  to  be  waited  upon.” 
Nobody  says  “ good  morning,”  or  asks  after  the  health  of  the  rest. 
The  elder  girl  calls  her  mother’s  notice  to  her  small  brother’s  plate 
where  griddle-cakes  swim  in  a lake  of  butter  and  syrup. 

“ I’d  be  ashamed  to  be  such  a pig  ! ” sneers  the  juvenile  monitor, 
and  is  ordered  by  him  to  “ to  hold  her  tongue ! Who  asked  for  her 
opinion  ? ” The  father  gulps  down  his  coffee  and  bolts  his  steak 
with  both  eyes  on  the  columns  of  the  morning  journal  which  is  his 


83 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OP  FAMILY  LIFE. 

substitute  for  cheerful  table  talk.  When  the  bickerings  or  the 
teasing  waxes  loud,  he  throws  in  a sharp  or  heavy  word,  as  he 
would  shy  a stone  at  quarrelsome  hounds.  His  meal  concluded,  he 
kicks  back  his  chair,  remarks,  not  crossly,  but  as  certainly  not 
civilly,  that  he  has  no  more  time  to  waste,  and  takes  himself  off  for 
the  day  without  other  farewell. 

The  Nemo  connection  is  extensive,  and  the  branch  we  are 
describing  highly  respectable. 

It  was  my  misfortune  to  be  present  when  one  of  them  asked  his 
wife  to  bring  a cup  in  which  he  could  mix  medicine  for  an  ailing 
child.  She  brought  a tumbler  instead. 

“ What  did  I ask  you  for  ? ” demanded  her  lord  harshly. 

“ I thought  this  would  do  as  well,  my  dear,”  said  the  gentle 
spouse. 

“You  ‘ thought ! ’ That  is  the  way  with  you  all.  You  are 
always  thinking^  instead  of  doing  as  you  are  told  to  do ! When  I 
say  cup,  I mean  c ^ u Now,  go  and  get  it ! ” 

It  was  my  worse  luck  to  be  one  of  those  seated  about  a family 
board  when  the  head  of  the  house  inquired  of  his  fair  young 
daughter  where  an  article  which  he  named — a book,  or  penknife,  or 
some  such  matter — had  been  put. 

On  receiving  her  reply  that  she  had  not  seen  it,  he  broke  into  a 
turbulent  torrent  of  abuse,  in  reprobation  of  her  carelessness. 
“ What  do  you  suppose  I keep  you  in  clothes  and  victuals  and 
lodge  you  for?  You  and  your  sisters  are  as  lazy  and  saucy  a pack 
of  bad  rubbish  as  ever  a man  was  cursed  with,”  was  a clause  of  the 
peroration.  Do  I hear  a murmur  of  “ brute  ” and  “ boor  ? ” Will 
the  verdict  be  reconsidered  when  I affirm  that  the  speaker  was  an 
officer  in  a prominent  church,  and  bore  the  reputation  of  being  an 
estimable,  affectionate  husband  and  father  ? Let  it  be  understood 
that  I introduce  here  no  fancy  sketches,  and  draw  my  illustrations 


84 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


from  “ good  society.”  The  worst  happening  of  this  evil  complexion 
that  ever  befell  me  was  was  when  “ a perfect  Christian  gentleman,” 
high  in  public  office,  informed  his  wife  in  my  hearing,  that  “ any 
one  who  made  the  willful  mistake”  of  which  he  had  just  adjudged 
her  to  be  guilty  “ was  an  unmitigated  and  malicious  fooL^'' 

I know — few  better — how  intemperate  expressions  escape  the 
tongue  at  the  lash  of  anger,  but  these  are  invariably  in  the 
vernacular  of  the  irate  .speaker.  The  man  who  has  never  uttered 
an  oath  will  not  let  fly  a volley  of  profane  ejaculations,  let  the 
provocation  be  never  so  great.  There  is  a wide  world  of  difference 
between  the  fault-flnding  of  the  mistress  in  whose  mouth  the  law 
of  kindness  has  a familiar  abiding  place,  and  the  loud  tirade  of  her 
who  has  been  elevated  by  sudden  riches  to  “ eat  from  the  dish  she 
late  had  washed.”  There  may  be,  as  one  of  the  sex  avers,  “ a 
savage  in  every  man,”  but  he  is  not  born  full-grown,  war-paint  on, 
and  club  in  hand.  It  was  obvious  in  each  of  the  scenes  I have 
outlined  that  this  was  not  the  first  outbreak,  by  many,  of  the  Nemo 
barbarian.  His  leap  was  too  sure,  his  bellow  too  loud  for  a 
trial-effort. 

It  is  with  shame  and  regret,  that,  in  obedience  to  the  law  of 
stern  impartiality  I have  laid  down  for  my  conduct  in  the  present 
writing,  I confess  to  having  heard  more  than  once,  women  of  birth 
and  breeding  call  their  husbands  “ fools,”  not  in  sport,  but  in  very 
determined  earnest ; that,  now  and  then,  a sweet-voiced  girl, 
regardless  of  the  presence  of  others  besides  “ the  family,”  refuses 
flatly  to  obey  her  parents,  saying,  “ I won’t ! ” and  “ I shant ! ” as 
tartly  as  if  she  had  been  born  in  a ditcher’s  hovel  and  had  her 
training  in  the  slums.  Most  vividly  do  I recall  the  shock  of  a 
repoof  administered  by  a model  daughter  to  her  gray-haired  father 
whose  version  of  a story  differed  from  hers : 

“ You  only  make  yourself  ridiculous  by  such  absurd  talk,”  she 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  FAMILY  LIFE.  87 

said  judicially.  “ At  your  time  of  life  one  ought  to  have  some 
regard  for  the  truth.” 

She  loved  her  father  dearly ; was  his  nurse,  amanuensis, 
housekeeper — his  main  stay,  prop  and  anchor.  But  I doubt  not  that 
the  vitriol  of  her  rebuke  burned  as  hotly  as  if  she  had  been  none 
of  these.  The  number  of  times  I have  known  sisters  to  band}/ 
compliments  on  the  eminent  propriety  of  each  minding  her  own 
business,  is  hardly  surpassed  by  that  of  the  “ snubs  ” administered 
by  sisters  to  brothers,  and  the  interchange  of  the  yet  more  spicy 
courtesies  between  brothers.  Lack  of  room  and  strength,  not  to 
mention  common  decency,  forbid  the  expose.  Everybody  is  familiar 
with  the  truth  and  the  superabundant  examples  of  it.  It  is  of  a 
piece  with  the  code  which  enjoins  a distinction  which  is  more  than 
a difference  between  “ company  ” and  every  day  manners,  and  even 
keeps  back  grammatical  speech  for  such  occasions  as  visits  and 
visitors. 

“ Not  a sign  of  the  fraternal  in  all  this  ! ” said  the  astute 
railway  critic,  in  summing  up  the  civilities  extended  by  the  young 
man  to  his  compagnon  de  voyage. 

The  inference  is  patent.  In  the  like  circumstances,  the  brother 
would  have  sat  in  his  revolving  chair,  his  back  to  his  sister,  and 
jerked  monosyllables  over  his  shoulder  in  response  to  her  queries  ; 
have  waited  to  be  asked  for  the  glass  of  ice  water,  then,  brought  it 
ungraciously.  He  would  not  have  bethought  himself  of  her 
possible  desire  to  get  a breath  of  fresh  air  at  every  station,  or  that 
the  sun  might  be  oppressive.  The  tokens  of  their  common 
humanity  would  have  been  reserved  for  ‘‘  another  fellow’s  sister.” 

We  have  not  to  deal  now  with  the  fact  of  natural  affection,  still 
less  with  the  question  of  conjugal  fidelity.  These  are  presupposed 
in  the  assertion  that  we  take  too  much  for  granted  in  our  intercourse 
with  those  of  our  own  blood  and  households.  The  seed  of  the  ugl}^ 


88 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


weed  is  planted  when  the  newly  made  husband  remits,  for  the  first 
time,  a polite  office  to  his  wife  which  he  would  blush  to  remit  were 
she  his  guest,  or  mere  acquaintance.  One  of  two  things  is  wrong: 
— the  painstaking  devotion  of  the  suitor,  or  the  nonchalance  of  the 
married  man.  If  it  was  Philemon’s  bounden  duty  and  delight, 
before  wedlock,  to  pick  up  the  handkerchief  of  Baucis,  to  set  a chair 
for  her  at  her  entrance  into  the  room  where  he  was  sitting,  to  hand 
her  in  and  out  of  carriages  and  up  stairs,  to  spare  her  heavy  lifting 
and  needless  steps,  to  be  urbane  in  tone  and  language — in  short,  to 
testify  in  action  to  the  world  of  his  love  and  respect  for  the  woman 
he  has  chosen  to  bear  his  name  and  share  his  fortunes — it  is  his 
duty  (even  without  the  flavoring  of  delight),  to  treat  her  in  the 
same  manner  for  the  entire  period  of  their  united  lives. 

Wives  have  a responsibility  in  this  respect  which  they  are  too 
apt  to  ignore,  or  to  shirk  when  it  is  admitted.  There  is  much 
written  now-a-days  of  the  propriety  of  mothers  “ keeping  themselves 
up”  for  the  sake  of  their  children.  If  wives  do  not  keep  their 
lords  up  in  what  are  not  the  trivialities  of  courteous  attention  to 
themselves,  they  (the  wives)  will  go  without  these  in  the  end. 
There  is  something  sadly  demoralizing  in  the  sudden  or  slow  slip 
of  the  band  on  the  wheel,  when  the  bride  and  bridegroom  days  are 
accomplished,  and  the  petted  angel  drops  into,  “ only  my  wife.” 

I have  called  this  lapse  the  seed  of  the  ugly  plant  which  is  of 
rapid  growth,  and  as  ineradicable,  if  once  rooted,  as  pursley  and 
rag-weed.  Philemon  saunters  into  his  wife’s  boudoir,  hands  in 
pocket,  hat  on  head,  cigar  in  mouth,  with  never  a thought  of  saying 
“ By  your  leave,”  or  “ Excuse  me.”  He  pushes  before  her  in 
passing  out  or  entering  a room  ; sits  down  to  the  table  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  and  cleans  his  nails  in  the  parlor  when  nobody  (Baucis 
counting  as  a cipher)  is  by.  If  Baucis  wishes  to  attend  theater, 
concert,  or  lecture,  to  drive,  or  walk,  or  sail,  the  proposition,  in  five 


89 


THE  ETIQUETTE  OF  FAMILY  LIFE. 

cases  out  of  ten,  comes  from  her,  not  him.  With  his  ante-nuptial 
apprenticeship  in  what  the  French  have  named  “ less  petits  soinsP 
he  has  gone  out  of  the  business.  If  it  is  kept  up,  it  is  the  wife 
who  continues  it  at  the  old  stand. 

Children  catch  the  tone  of  their  elders.  The  sons  caricature 
their  bluff  sire,  and  are  bullies  or  boors  in  their  association  with 
mother  and  sisters,  suave  courtiers  in  “ society.”  The  daughters 
refine  upon  their  mother’s  self-defensiveness,  and  and  become  sar- 
castic adepts  in  the  science  of  “ taking  the  boys  down.” 

In  many  households,  this  order  of  things  is  considered  altogether 
natural,  and  not  reprehensible. 

“ What  a bore  you  people  must  find  it  to  be  always  on  your 
fs  and  ps  at  home ! ” said  an  outspoken  woman  to  one  who  was 
not  of  the  average  Nemo  clan.  “You  are  never  en  dishabille^  in 
behavior,  to  each  other,  mince  your  words  and  fine  down  your 
phrases  in  family  talk  as  if  you  were  afraid  of  your  own  flesh  and 
blood.  Now,  we  brothers  and  sisters  speak  right  out  whatever  we 
think  and  feel,— quarrel  all  around  and  make  friends  every  day  of 
our  lives.” 

Many  more  men  and  woman,  not  belonging  to  the  order  of 
Pachydermata^ — suffer,  first  and  last,  with  an  intensity  their  associ- 
ates cannot  appreciate  from  what  may  be  termed  the  toss-and-tumble 
style  of  home  life.  Wives  and  sisters  may  not  complain  audibly 
when  they  are  left  to  help  themselves  to  daily  bread  from  crockery 
platters  while  other  fellows’  sisters  and  wives-are  served  on  bended 
knee  from  garnished  porcelain.  But  they  see,  and  feel,  and  think. 
Husbands  may  appreciate  the  sterling  worth  of  wives  whose  hands 
and  brains  toil  unrestingly  in  the  service  of  their  families,  and 
brothers  repeat  emphatically  to  themselves  that  sisters  who  appear 
to  revel  in  opportunities  of  taking  the  wind  out  of  their  sails,  are 
thoroughly  good  girls,  and  would  go  through  fire  and  water  for  the 


90 


HOUSE  AND  HOMP: 


boys  they  rail  at  as  “ cubs  ” and  “ rowdies.”  “ We  understand  each 
other,”  one  and  all  would  j^rotest  were  an  outsider  to  censure  their 
language  as  unkind,  or  to  intimate  that  tlie  son  who  accosts  his 
mother  with,  “ Hallo,”  old  girl ! ” or  the  daughter  who  interrupts 
her  father  with,  “ Yon  don  t know  what  yon  are  talking  about!” 
strains  to  snapping  the  commandment  to  honor  parents. 

The  toss-and-tnmbler  is  fond  of  pleading  “ his  way  ” in  extenu- 
ation of  boorish  deportment  and  brusque  speech.  I know  whole 
families  whose  “ ways  ” are  so  many  -pet  hedgehogs,  pampered  at 
home,  and  imperfectly  leashed  abroad.  They  jumble  the  boast  of 
intrinsic  excellence  with  the  parade  of  external  deformity,  until 
weak  minds  confuse  the  two.  The  human  pig-nut  is,  oftener  than 
otherwise,  like  the  vegetable  product  of  the  same  name — bitter- 
hearted  when  one  has  dragged  it  out  of  the  tough,  thick  shell. 

It  is  as  easy  to  be  sincere  and  sweet,  as  to  be  sincere  and  sour. 
Hearts  are  not  won  and  kept  so  much  by  the  exercise  of  the  sterner 
virtues  as  by  the  constant  practice  of  loving  consideration  for  the 
feelings,  gentlest  patience  with  the  foibles  of  those  with  whom  our 
daily  lot  is  cast.  Common-sense  ought  to  have  proved  to  us  by  this 
time  that  oil  is  a better  lubricator  of  domestic  machinery  than 
vinegar.  May  I offer  to  the  younger  members  of  the  home  circle 
a simple  rule  of  action  that  will  reduce  to  a minimum  the  friction  of ' 
daily  living,  even  with  those  whose  individuality  is  as  pronounced, 
whose  views  are  as  independent  as  your  own  ? A caution  that  will 
spare  you  many  a stormy  scene,  and,  perchance,  avert  the  heart- 
break of  unavailing  remorse  ? 

Do  not  say  a rough  ivord  when  a srnooth  07ie  will  serve  your 
purpose  as  well.  Before  indulging  iu  retort,  or  sly  thrust  or  deadly 
“ crusher  ” — whatever  the  provocation — ask  yourself : “ Would  I 

wish  til  is  unsaid  if  I were  never  to  behold  his  living  face  again  ? ” 


The  Vexed  Question— Domestic  Service  in 

America. 


N English  journal  remarks  in  the  course  of  a review  of  an 
American  manual  of  cookery : “ One  thing  which  im- 

I ^ presses  the  British  reader  as  strange  and  even  droll,  is 
▼ that  the  presence  of  the  mistress  in  the  kitchen  and 

her  active  co-operation  in  the  business  of  cookery  are  taken 
for  granted.  Yet  there  must  be  some  servants  in  the  United 
States.”  Making  the  marginal  annotation  of  an  interrogation 
point  over  the  last  sentence,  I digress  to  observe  that  if  the 
testimony  of  English  books  and  papers  be  admitted,  the  ques- 
tion of  what  Punch  styles  “ servantgalism,”  is  a knotty  one  in 
the  Mother  Country,  where  social  and  caste-lines  are  sharply  drawn, 
and  the  existence  of  a lower  class  is  not  disputed  by  those  who  belong 
to  it.  On  the  continent,  the  problem  is  not  only  knotty,  but 
prickly.  Two  or  three  times  in  a century,  it  bristles  with  pikes 
and  butcher-knives,  a complication  which,  fortunately,  does  not 
enter  into  our  discussion  of  our  own  puzzle  of  domestic  service. 


“ System,”  it  cannot  be  called.  Even  as  a dissected  pattern,  it  is 
unsatisfactory.  It  is  a construction  of  iron  and  clay,  and  the 
attrition  of  the  parts  must  work  confusion. 

To  return  to  our  interrogation-point ; — Have  we,  as  a nation, 
any  domestic  servants  ? 


91 


9^ 


HOUSE  AND  home. 


Every  public  fuuctiouar}^,  from  constable  uptotlie  Chief  Magis- 
trate of  the  Union,  is  proud  to  call  himself  the  servant  of  the 
people.  “ Ich  dieii  ’’ — “ I serve  ” is  the  motto  surmounted  by  the 
three  white  feathers  in  the  crest  of  the  heir  to  the  British  throne. 
“ Let  the  greatest  among  you  be  your  servant,”  said  the  Prince  of 
princes,  who  took  upon  Himself  the  form  of  a servant. 

In  our  Christian  land  and  age,  we  weakly  evade  the  obvious 
truth  that  if  some  are  to  be  served,  there  must  be  others  whose 
part  it  is  to  render  that  service.  Having  yielded  to  a certain — or 
uncertain — class  the  names  of  “ lady  ” and  “ gentleman,”  and  taken 
up  for  ourselves  and  made  honorable  the  titles  of  “ man  ” and 
“ woman,”  we  carry  amiable  forbearance  a step  further  in  recog- 
nizing as  “ helps,”  and  most  frequently  as  “ girls,”  inferiors  in  birth, 
station  and  culture,  whom  we  hire  and  wheedle  to  do  such  daily 
tasks  as  will  leave  us  free  to  discharge  aright  duties  which  they  are 
incapable  of  performing.  I wonder  the  real  American  girl  does  not 
protest  passionately  against  her  dispossession  of  a royal  title.  It 
is  amusing,  and  pitiable,  to  hear  a fond  mother  extricate  herself 
from  the  mesh  of  misunderstanding  induced  by  her  mention  of  “my 
girls.”  Unless  interpreted  by  the  immediate  context,  the  listeners 
cannot  determine  whether  she  has  in  mind  the  accomplished  queens 
of  the  drawing-room,  or  the  illiterate  despots  of  the  kitchen.  In 
fact,  our  daughters  have  been  doubly  robbed.  As  “ young  ladies,” 
they  went  out  of  being  more  than  a decade  ago.  “We  girls,”  sug- 
gests, to  all  except  the  readers  of  the  charming  volume  bearing 
that  title,  the  conclave  below-stairs,  sitting  in  judgment  upon  the 
multifarious  iniquities  of  the  Anonyma  everywhere  known  to  the 
guild  as  “ Her,”  and  “ She.”  For,  if  the  daughter  be  shorn  of  her 
titles,  the  mother  is  beggared  utterly — reduced  to  a pronoun,  and 
a monosyllable. 


DOMESTIC  SERVICE  IN  AMERICA. 


93 


There  are  no  more  mistresses  than  there  are  servants.  If  the 
reader  would  verify  the  statement,  let  her  use  the  brace  of  obnox- 
ious words  in  the  hearing  of  Bridget,  Katrine,  or  the  dusky-cheeked 
Victoria-Columbia-Celeste  of  the  present  generation. 

(Let  it  be  noted  that  the  middle-aged  mother  or  aunt  of  the 
smart  colored  damsel  furnishes  ns  with  the  best  “ help  ” to  be  had 
in  this,  or  any  other  country,  and  speaks  of  herself  and  her 
congeners  in  her  honest  self-respect,  as  “ servants.”) 

English  Phillis  enters  the  service  for  which  she  has  been  trained, 
as  scullery-maid,  and  works  her  way  steadily  up  to  the  station  of  cook, 
then  housekeeper.  The  summit  of  her  ambition  is  reached  when 
the  united  savings  of  herself  and  the  butler  warrant  them  in  marry- 
ing and  setting  up  for  themselves  in  the  public  house,  or  genteel 
lodging  business. 

English  Abigail  usually  obtains,  besides  the  education  given  in 
the  village  school,  some  knowledge  of  dressmaking  and  of  hair- 
dressing, before  she  ventures  to  apply  for  a place  as  lady’s  maid. 
Once  established  in  this  capacity,  her  aim  is  to  keep  a good  home, 
with  the  prospect  of  higher  wages  as  time  develops  her  talents. 
Being  better  educated  and  more  refined  than  Phillis,  she  is  not  so 
likely  to  marry,  unless  tempted  to  change  a position  she  feels  to  be 
eminently  respectable  by  the  blandishments  of  a handsome  valet, 
or  the  solid  worth  of  some  thrifty  shop-keeper. 

“ Service  ” with  these  women  is  as  truly  a trade  as  millinery. 
It  is  a lift  in  the  social  scale  for  the  daughters  of  the  day-laborer, 
a safe  and  desirable  settlement  for  the  children  of  the  small  farmer 
and  mechanic. 

On  this  side  of  the  ocean,  Bridget,  Katrine,  and  Victoria-Colum- 
bia-Celeste— who,  on  calling  to  see  if  she  will  hire  you  as  a tempor- 
ary employer,  gives  her  name  as  “ Miss  ” Howard,' or  Halyburton, 


94 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


or  Hamilton — are  “ living-out-girls.”  This  is  the  utmost  degree  of 
servitude  they  will  acknowledge. 

A young  woman  who  “ lived  out  ” in  my  family  as  child’s  nurse 
for  eight  years,  was  once  obliged  to  introduce  to  me  a relative  newly 
arrived  from  Ireland.  As  is  well-known,  those  who  have  lived  here 
long  enough  to  learn  the  ways  of  an  independent  repiiblic  hide  the 
granehoms  ” from  stranger  eyes  until  the  bog-moss  is,  in  a 
measure,  rubbed  off.  But  I happened  to  enter  the  kitchen 
while  the  stranger  sat  there  in  linsey  petticoat  and  short 
gown,  hob-nailed  brogans  and  cotton  cap,  and  Ellen  had  no  choice 
but  to  name  “ me  mother’s  sister,  mem.”  While  I asked  how  she 
had  borne  the  voyage  and  bade  her  welcome,  the  worth}^  creature 
dropped  her  dame-school  courtesy  with  every  bashful  reply — the 
niece  growing  redder  at  each  obeisance.  That  evening,  she  came  to 
my  room  to  apologize  for  her  kinswoman’s  “ quare  behavior.” 

“ It’s  a tlirick  as  is  ’tached  ’em  at  home,  mem,  where  there’s  the 
raal  quality  and  all  that.  They  soon  larn  better  nor  to  do  it  here. 
Och ! ” — the  Irish  temper  flashing  up — “ It  makes  me  that  mad  to 
see  a woman  dhrop  a curchy  in  Ameriky,  I could  kill  her ! It’s  a 
shame  and  a disgrace  in  a free-an’-aiqual  country.” 

With  this  free-and-equal  theory,  the  mistress  (nominally),  is 
handicapped  throughout  her  association  with  her  underlings  who 
repudiate  wrathfully  the  thought  of  subordination.  It  is  the  germ 
of  the  prejudice  against  entering  any  household  except  as  the 
controller  thereof,  which  fills  our  kitchens  and  nurseries  with  mal- 
content Arabs.  The  woman  who  can  earn  a living  in  no  other  way, 
sees  in  this  incapacity  a manifest  call  to  take  up  the  cross  of 
“ living  out.”  Stiff  and  stumpy  fingers  that  cannot  sew  are  deemed 
equal  to  the  manufacture  of  the  dainty  entremets  we  covet  (and  do 
not  get)  as  variations  of  homely  fare.  The  brain  that  cannot  com- 
pass the  mysteries  of  a trade,  can  carry  weights  and  measures, 


DOMESTIC  SERVICE  IN  AMERICA. 


97 


and  concoct  soups  and  desserts.  O ! these  “ plain  cooks  ! ” how 
rough  and  crooked  they  make  the  daily  walk  of  faint  and  fagged 
housewife  ! It  is  not  worth  the  trouble  of  saying  that  such  bunglers 
further  degrade  the  work  they  have  taken  up  as  a pis  alter.  It  is 
drudgery,  and  a hateful  bondage  to  them  ; far  more  irksome  than  to 
the  mistress  whose  fine,  clear  sense  discerns  that  nothing  is  com- 
mon or  unclean  to  willing  hands,  nothing  slavish  to  the  earnest 
spirit. 

Is  the  situation  hopeless  ? Beyond  a doubt,  unless,  as  a prelim- 
inar}^  measure  to  the  making  of  servants,  we  make  mistresses.  The 
only  independent  American  housekeeper  is  she  who  understands 
her  profession  and  her  position.  As  the  corner-stone  of  both, 
dignify  them  yourself.  Whatever  you  may  think  of  the  principle 
involved  in  Mrs.  Whitney’s  eloquent  remonstrance  against  woman’s 
suffrage,  you  must  perceive  matter  for  thought,  as  well  as  amuse- 
ment, in  the  sketched  “ May-be  ” that  follows : 

“Perhaps  it  may  even  be  discovered,  to  the  still  further  detriment 
of  our  already  painfully  hampered  and  perplexed  domestic  system, 
that  pursuit  of  fun,  votes,  or  offices,  is  more  remunerative,  as  well  as 
more  gentlewomanly,~as  Micawber  might  express  it — than  the  cleans- 
ing of  pots  and  pans,  the  weekly  wash  or  the  watching  of  the  roast. 
Perhaps  in  that  enfranchised  day  there  will  be  no  Katies  and  Mag- 
gies, and  the  Norahs  will  know  their  place  no  more.  Then  the 
enlightened  womanhood  may  have  to  begin  at  the  foundation,  and 
glorify  the  kitchen  again.  And  good  enough  for  her,  in  the  wide, 
as  well  as  primitive  sense  of  the  phrase,  and  a grand  turn  in  the 
history  that  repeats  itself  toward  the  old,  forgotten,  peaceful  side  of 
the  cycle,  it  may  be.” 

Establish  in  your  own  mind  that  house-keeping  is  a distinct  and 
important  line  of  business,  and  that  you  are  the  firm  which  has  the 
conducting  of  your  “ establishment.”  If  you  choose  to  let  your 


98 


housp:  and  home. 


husband  audit  accounts,  do  so.  Should  you,  as  age  advances  or 
cares  thicken,  admit  a daughter  as  junior  partner,  need  may  justify 
the  step.  On  no  account  alter  the  standing  of  a paid,  nneducated 
subordinate  with  regard  to  yonr  authority  and  right.  There  is  no 
necessary  hireling,  or  should  be  none  in  a house  where  the  mistress 
has  health  and  intelligence.  The  only  indispensable  member 
of  the  corporation  is  the  head.  Whatever  may  be  the  excellences  of 
your  faithful  and  attached  servant,  she  is  your  inferior  in  mental 
discipline  and  judgment,  if  you  are  fit  for  the  place  3^011  hold.  To  con- 
sult her  as  a peer ; to  suffer  her  judgment  to  bear  down  yours  habitu- 
ally ; to  commit  the  control  of  any  department  of  the  household 
absolutely  to  her,  is  to  cast  off  the  belt  that  steadies  a wheel  of  the 
machine.  In  strength,  in  swift,  even  motion,  it  ma}^  be  all  you 
could  desire,  may  seem  more  essential  to  the  progress  of  the  work 
in  hand  than  the  band  encompassing  it.  But  let  the  latter  break, 
or  slip,  and  the  wild  whirl,  aimless,  if  not  disastrous,  is  a significant 
type  of  that  domestic  interior  where  amiability,  or  indolence,  or  mis- 
taken judgment  leads  to  a transfer  of  the  balance  of  power. 

Close  upon  the  heels  of  the  resolution  to  be  commander-in-chief 
of  your  household  forces,  should  come  the  recognition  of  others  in 
a similar  capacity  in  their  respective  homes.  This  is  not  corollary, 
but  a step  in  the  solution  of  the  problem.  A crying  need  in  our  free 
country  is  the  organization  of  a Harry  Wadsworth  Club  of  house- 
wives whose  “ lend  a hand  ’’  shall  be  a living  bond  of  union.  As 
matters  now  stand,  each  so-not-called  mistress  is  a free  lance  with 
relation  to  other  nominal  heads  of  households.  With  a few 
honorable  exceptions,  every  matron  engages  cook,  housemaid, 
laundress  and — most  important  of  all — child’s  nurse,  without  heed 
to  the  reputation  she  has  borne  in  her  last  situation.  If  a form  of 
investigation  is  made,  the  “ girl  ” holds  the  winning  card  from  the 
first. 


DOMESTIC  SERVICE  IN  AMERICA. 


99 


“ An’  shure,  yez  is  the  fnrrest  pairson  as  iver  had  the  face  to  ax 
me  for  the  loike ! ” spluttered  an  ornament  to  the  culinary  profes- 
sion when  I inquired  innocently  if  she  had  credentials  of  character 
and  ability.  “I  sez  the  one  thing  to  all  thim  as  applies  for  me. 
Take  me  or  lave  me  ! sez  I.  But  I won’t  demane  mesilf  by  askin 
nor  showin’  a stiff-ticket  to  plase  no  woman  in  Ameriky.” 

When  the  independent  freewoman  condescends  to  exhibit  her 
^ ca-racter  ” or  submits  to  the  greater  indignity  of  a visit  of  inquiry 
to  her  late  employer,  the  information  elicited  has  no  weight  in  the 
decision  of  the  question,  if  it  be  adverse  to  the  questioner’s  desire 
to  “ get  in  the  new  girl  ” as  soon  as  possible  and  be  rid  of  the 
bother  of  “ changing.”  We  change  often  enough  to  get  used  to  the 
national  “ bother,”  one  might  think,  yet  it  is  a disagreeable  business 
whenever  it  occurs.  Let  me  illustrate  : 

Early  in  my  housewifely  life,  I dismissed  a cook  for  good  and 
sufficient  reasons.  She  asked  for  a certificate  to  the  effect  that  she 
could  wash  and  iron  tolerably  well,  and  I gave  it,  subjoining 
voluntarily,  that  she  was  honest  and  obliging.  We  parted  with 
expressions  of  mutual  good-will,  and  I supposed  our  intercourse 
was  at  an  end.  Not  that  my  conscience  was  tranquil.  The  plausible 
certificate  told  only  half  the  truth.  Would  not  some  confiding 
fellow  housekeeper  have  the  right  to  accuse  me  of  fraud  when  she 
should  discover  for  herself  why  the  woman  who  was  a good  cook 
and  fair  laundress,  whose  temper  was  excellent,  against  whose 
sobriety  and  honesty  there  was  no  impeachment,  was  discharged 
from  my  service  ? But  veteran  managers  had  taught  me  that  the 
superior  should  lean  to  the  merciful  side  in  dealing  with  underlings. 
The  servant  was  dependent  upon  her  reputation  for  her  living. 
What  Christian  woman  would  imperil  the  poor  thing’s  chances  of 
getting  an  honest  support  ? 


lOO 


HOUSE  AND  HOME, 


The  impersonal  aspect  of  the  affair  was  dissipated  by  a call  from 
a neighbor  whom  I liked  extremely.  My  quondam  cook  had 
presented  her  credentials,  and  my  friend  had  “ run  around  to  find 
out  all  about  her  before  engaging  Margaret.” 

The  “ all  ” was  that  the  woman  was  disgustingly  and  incurably 
untidy,  and  careless  beyond  compare.  Superadded  to  these  faults 
was  a habit  of  staying  out  late  every  night,  and  leaving  a door  or 
blind  unfastened  that  she  might  return  unperceived.  Once,  she 
had  set  a curtain  on  fire  with  a match  as  she  crept  in  at  the  dining- 
room window ; another  time,  a policeman  had  come  up  to  the  second 
story  at  one  o’clock  A.  M.,  to  say  that  the  front  door  was  ajar.  On 
a third  occasion,  finding  every  other  avenue  closed,  she  had  gone 
home  with  a girl  whose  employer  lived  in  our  block ; walked  on  the 
roof  until  she  reached  the  sky-light  in  ours,  and  descended  through 
the  scuttle,  awakening  the  chambermaid  by  a misstep.  The  latter’s 
screams  at  the  approach  of  the  supposed  burglar  alarmed  the 
household  and  betrayed  Margaret’s  ruse.  She  had  a genius, 
furthermore,  for  breaking  valuables.  A rough  computation  of  her 
performances  in  this  line  showed  that  she  had,  in  six  months,  cost 
us,  beside  board  and  wages,  $150. 

I stated  these  facts  to  my  friend  without  reserve,  but  when 
three  or  four  others  called  on  the  same  errand,  I modified  the  story 
as  far  as  was  consistent  with  truth,  not  wishing  to  hurt  Margaret’s 
prospects  of  getting  a good  home.  To  each  visitor  I said  that  the 
woman  had  excellent  points,  and  might  do  well  with  a more  strict 
manager  than  myself. 

Penally,  I was  astounded  by  the  apparition  of  Margaret  herself. 
She  burst  into  my  presence,  a cyclone  in  calico,  her  eyes  red  with 
fury.  “ I want  to  know  why  I can’t  get  a place  when  oncet  the 
wimmen  has  been  to  you  ! ” she  vociferated.  “ It’s  no  leddy  ye 
are  to  be  takin’  the  bread  out  of  an  honest  girl’s  mouth  I ” 


DOMESTIC  SERVICE  IN  AMERICA. 


lOI 


As  I have  said,  I was  inexperienced,  honest  in  intention  and  in 
action,  and  imagined  that  I had  no  alternative  but  to  tell  the  truth 
when  appealed  to  directly  by  a sister  housekeeper.  I have  learned, 
since  then,  that  my  conduct  was  sufficiently  extraordinary,  accord- 
ing to  American  usage,  to  warrant  Margaret’s  frenzied  protest. 

An  acquaintance  once  expressed  to  me  her  satisfaction  that  a 
lady  who  had  called  to  inquire  into  the  character  of  a cook  had  not 
touched  upon  the  subject  of  honesty. 

“ The  girl  lived  with  me,  four  years,  and  I trusted  her  more 
than  I shall  ever  trust  another,”  she  said.  “At  last,  we  discovered 
that  she  was  robbing  us  systematically,  and  allowing  suspicion  to 
rest  upon  an  innocent  person.  Her  trunk  was  full  of  stolen  hand- 
kerchiefs, napkins,  stockings,  etc., — belonging  to  my  daughters  and 
myself.  We  searched  it  before  her  eyes,  and  sent  her  out  of  the 
house.  I charged  her  not  to  give  me  as  a reference,  but  it  seems 
she  has  done  it.  The  cool  assurance  of  the  act  made  me  so  indig- 
nant that  I was  tempted  to  tell  just  why  I discharged  the  creature. 
Then  I reflected  that  it  would  be  mean  and  unkind  to  ruin  a work- 
ing-woman, and  held  my  tongue.  I praised  her  neatness,  industry, 
cooking,  and  so  on,  until  the  new  mistress  went  off  persuaded  that 
she  has  a treasure.” 

The  virtuous  and  purblind  complacency  with  which  this  state- 
ment was  offered  would  have  struck  me  dumb  with  admiration  had 
the  exhibition  been  less  common. 

On  the  rare  occasions  when  I have  been  obliged  to  make  changes 
in  the  domestic  corps,  I have  adhered  to  the  rule  of  calling  on  a 
former  employer,  believing  that  it  is  the  only  safe  and  honorable 
thing  to  do.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  I have  been  assured  directly, 
or  by  insinuation,  that  my  action  was  eccentric  and  quite 
unnecessary.  In  ten  cases  out  of  ten,  there  was  the  slightest 
possible  allusion  to  the  imperfections  of  the  late  incumbent 


102 


HOUvSE  AND  HOME. 


consistent  with  a belief  in  human  frailty.  It  is  manifestly  a matter 
of  form  and  charity  to  give  clean  papers  to  every  applicant.  There 
is  an  immense  reserve  of  amiability  in  mortal  men  and  women, 
unsuspected  and  immeasurable  depths  of  it  in  the  maligned  native 
housewife,  when  her  help  has  once  quitted  her  service, — but  it  all 
runs  in  one  channel. 

I write  down  deliberately  the  conviction  that  if  there  were  in  the 
ranks  of  housekeepers  oiie-half  of  the  class-spirit  that  prevails 
among  those  we  employ,  The  Vexed  Question  would  right  itself  in 
less  than  one  generation.  None  of  us  affect  to  ignore  the  existence 
of  the  informal,  but  mighty  trades’  union  of  domestics.  In  every 
community,  the  understanding  between  those  who  compose  this 
nameless  association  is  thorough.  Your  home-rules,  the  work 
expected  of  each  hireling,  the  wages  paid,  the  “ privileges  ” accorded 
— are  as  well  known  as  if  daily  proclamation  were  made  of  them  at 
street  corners.  Let  a situation  in  your  house  get  the  name  of  a 
“ hard  place,”  and  you  may  resign  all  reasonable  hope  of  stability 
and  peace  below-stairs.  Were  you  an  angel  of  love  and  mercy, 
trials  and  tribulations  await  you,  and  may  not  be  averted.  None 
save  indifferent  servants  can  be  tempted  to  cross  your  threshold, 
and  they  often  tarry  (literally)  but  a night.  The  abhorrent  ''''Small 
Pox  ” placard  affixed  to  the  panels  of  the  front  door  would  scarcely 
be  more  effectual  in  keeping  aloof  those  you  would  fain  have 
the  opportunity  to  treat  equitably  and  kindly. 

The  “ hard  mistress’  ” reputation  spreads  fast  and  far,  and  is — 
alas  ! too  easily  earned.  The  incompetent,  slothful,  dishonest,  dirty 
servant  may,  if  it  pleases  her  whim,  live  in  every  house  in  every 
block  in  every  street  of  your  town,  if  the  one  means  of  checking 
her  ravages  be  a candid,  fearless  description  of  her  works  and  ways, 
written  or  oral,  furnished  from  her  “ last  place.” 


DOMESTIC  SERVICE  IN  AMERICA.  lo;^ 

In  all  this  we  are  untrue  to  each  other,  to  ourselves,  and  to  our 
order.  If  the  “ girl  ” found  it  impossible  to  get  a new  situation 
without  a satisfactory  testimonial  of  character  and  qualifications 
from  a former  employer,  she  would  think  twice  before  marching  off 
without  giving  an  hour’s  warning.  If  the  employer  felt  her  honor 
as  a woman,  her  credit  as  a housekeeper  involved,  when  she  writes 
out  the  paper  which  is  to  transfer  one  she  knows  to  be  disagreeable 
or  inefficient  to  another’s  home,  she  would  choose  words  and  phrases 
with  care.  “ The  usual  thing  ” would  not  run  so  glibly  from  her 
pen,  nor  the  omission  of  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law  of  neigh- 
borly kindness  be  so  ingeniously  slurred  over.  There  is  nothing 
inhuman  in  the  truth  in  such  circumstances.  Dishonesty,  ungovern- 
able temper,  immorality — are  curses  we  ought  to  shun  for  our 
friends,  as  for  ourselves.  We  break  the  second  great  command- 
ment when  we  suffer,  by  default,  the  virus  to  enter  other  homes. 
In  this  sense  every  one  of  us  is — whether  she  admits  it  or  not — her 
sister’s  keeper. 

It  is  impossible  in  the  space  of  a single  chapter  to  present  more 
than  a few  features  of  this  many-headed  subject.  I can  add  but  a 
word  of  caution  to  those  who  demand  a paragon  in  every  hireling. 
It  often  happens  that  the  servant  who  suits  you  will  not  fill  the 
measure  of  your  next-door  neighbor’s  requirements,  and  vice  versa. 
In  the  frank  interchange  of  query  and  reply  respecting  recommenda- 
tion and  disadvantage,  take  this  into  consideration.  If  Abigail’s 
faults  are  not  vices,  and  Phillis’  drawbacks  are  such  as  maybe  over- 
come by  patience  and  judicious  training,  it  may  be  a wise  experi- 
ment to  try  her,  and  thus  indulge  the  national  (feminine)  propensity 
to  give  the  “ girl  ” all  the  odds  compatible  with  the  preservation  of 
the  lives,  liberties  and  sacred  honor  of  the  benevolent  employer  and 
her  household. 


Why  Monday? 

IT  is  humiliating  to  one  in  whose  creed  the  tenet  that  “ Life  is 
growth  ” finds  place,  to  acknowledge  how  many  things  are 
done  by  civilized,  intelligent  beings  for  no  better  reason  than 
because  everybody  else  does  them. 

“ Why  have  you  not  introduced  the  luggage-check  into  your 
railway  system  ? ” I asked  an  Englishman,  at  the  Paddington 
Station  in  London. 

Cabmen,  porters,  valets,  waiting-maids,  foreign  and  domestic 
passengers,  were  stirred  up  into  a seething  mass  of  anxious  impati- 
ence, awaiting  the  identification  of  each  separate  box  and  portman- 
teau. The  thought  was  inevitable,  the  query  irrepressible. 

The  average  Briton  has,  at  home  and  abroad,  always  on  hand  a 
patent  repeater,  loaded  and  self-cocking,  when  the  institutions  of  his 
native  island  are  criticised. 

It  is  not  customary  in  England,  you  know,”  was  all  I got  for 
my  inconvenient  inquisitiveness. 

Have  we  any  better  reason  for  not  changing  our  National  wash- 
day? Freeing  our  minds  of  prejudice  and  tradition,  let  us  ask  if 
any  other  working-day,  unless  it  be  Saturday,  could  be  less  con- 
venient for  the  purpose  to  which  we  dedicate  (or  degrade)  the  first 
in  the  line  of  descent  from  Sabbatical  heights  ? 


BETSY  ON  MONDAY 


WHY  MONDAY? 


107 


Setting  an  argument  which  maybe  called  “ a lightweight,”  fore- 
most, we  must  acknowledge  that  the  close  proximity  of  the  steam, 
strain,  stress,  and  general  “ stew  ” of  washing-day  to  the  holy  calm 
of  Sunday’s  rest  and  worship  offends  the  artistic  sense.  The  linking 
together  of  the  two  is  a palpable  misfit,  and  harshly  inharmonious. 

Mother  Goose’s  implication  in  regard  to  this  discordant  element 
of  everyday  prose  is,  as  is  often  her  way,  more  pregnant  than  hei' 
actual  assertion : 

“ As  Tommy  Snooks  and  Betsey  Brooks 
Were  walking  out  one  Sunday, 

Says  Tommy  Snooks  to  Betsey  Brooks, 

‘ To-morrow  will  be  Monday.’  ” 

Poor  Tommy ! The  revolt  of  the  poetic  nature  under  the 
encroachment  of  the  barren ly-realistic  upon  exaltation  of  soulful 
imagination  was  never  more  succinctly  uttered.  Betsey,  in  her  Sunday 
rig,  a bonnet  on  her  head,  instead  of  a cap,  a sprig  of  southernwood  in 
her  belt ; clean  cotton  gloves  hiding  the  toil-marred  hands, — is  such 
a different  being  from  Betsey  in  pattens,  with  apron  rolled  up  to  the 
waist,  and  sleeves  pinned  back  to  her  shoulders,  her  face  interlined 
with  worry,  and  blowsy  with  the  vapor  of  hot  suds,  that  the  lover 
may  well  recoil  from  the  vision. 

His  jeremiad  may  go  on  file  with  Moore’s  : 

“ All  that’s  bright  must  fade, 

The  brightest  still  the  fleetest.” 

The  abrupt  change  from  Sunday  to  Monday  is  a putting-out,  at 
a breath,  of  a holy  flame,  not  a flicker  or  fading.  Like  the  instanta- 
neous nightfall  that  comes  in  the  tropics  with  the  sinking  of  the 
sun,  it  is  bad  for  eyes  and  spirit.  Seriously,  it  is  strange  that 
physical  economists  have  not  long  ago  condemned  this  “ customary” 


io8 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


overloading  of  the  second  day  of  the  week  as  a violation  of  a prime 
principle  which  declares  the  danger  of  sudden  and  violent  extremes. 
In  most  families  in  this  Christian  land,  Sunday  is  the  happiest  day 
of  the  seven — a period  of  serene  relaxation,  of  home-comfort  and 
religious  enjoyment.  In  the  time  when  imprisonment  for  debt  was 
lawful  and  common,  the  creditor  could  not  seize  the  body  of  his 
debtor  between  Saturday  midnight  and  the  same  hour  of  Sunday 
night.  A like  immunity  from  business  cares  and  solicitudes  falls 
with  the  dawn  of  the  Blessed  Day  upon  weary  head  and  eyes.  For 
twenty-four  hours,  the  wolf  is  out  of  sight  of  the  door.  The  house- 
wife crosses  her  aching  wrists,  and  has  leisure  to  bethink  herself  of 
the  eternal  Sabbath  in  the  land  where  she  will  get  “ rested  out.” 
The  household  machinery  runs  without  creak  or  jar;  or,  if  there 
are  faults  she  overlooks  them,  “ because  it  is  Sunday.”  Even  our 
Puritan  grandmothers  thought  it  wrong  to  whip  naughty  children 
on  Sunday — perhaps  from  some  shadowy  and  unacknowledged  asso- 
ciation with  the  threshing-floor — but  the  little  sinners  reaped  the 
benefit  of  the  scruple  until  the  interest  was  compounded,  according 
to  the  Puritan  method  of  computation,  on  Black  Monday. 

It  must  be  as  injurious  to  health  as  to  temper  to  tighten  every 
screw,  and  crowd  on  all  steam  while  the  soft  languor  of  the  rest- 
day  still  lingers  in  the  soul  and  body.  Monday  morning  bounds  in 
upon  us  like  a frosty  snap  in  early  autumn,  or  late  spring.  We 
are  never  ready  for  it. 

Saturday  is  the  Peter  robbed  that  the  Paul  of  IMonday  may  not 
actually  suffer  for  the  necessaries  of  existence.  Marketing  is  done 
for  three  days,  and  cooking  also,  in  many  households  where  the 
cook  is  likewise  the  laundress.  The  remains  of  Sunday’s  dinner 
do  coldly  set  forth  the  morrow’s  table.  If  there  be  a shadow  of  the 
chilly  shade  left  over  for  Tuesday,  the  house-mother  accounts  it 
economy. 


WHY  MONDAY? 


109 


The  children,  spoiled  for  work  by  two  days  “ off,”  recognize  as  an 
important  element  in  the  general  hatefulness  of  Blue  Monday,  the 
hurried  breakfast,  at  which  the  freshest  bread  is  thirty-six  hours 
old,  and  the  hash  of  Saturday’s  inevitable  corned  beef  is  as  sure  to 
be  at  the  foot  of  the  board,  as  the  pre-occupied  face  they  hardly 
know  for  that  of  the  genial  father  of  yesterday.  “ Mother  ” is 
still  more  business-full  than  her  partner.  This  is,  for  her,  the  field 
day  of  the  week,  and  she  has  neither  word  nor  caress  to  waste. 
Luncheon,  or  the  early  dinner,  brings  no  respite.  The  father,  if  he 
be  wise,  takes  his  down  town.  The  children  miss  the  orderly 
waiting,  the  dainty  desserts  of  other  days  ; the  mother  is  too  busy 
to  know  what  she  eats.  Lessons  go  worse  on  Monday  than  at  any 
other  time.  Tempers  and  nerves  would  be  soothed  by  the 
reasonable  anticipation  of  a bountiful  repast  in  amends  for  the 
indifferent  breakfast,  but  the  dejected  home-comers  know  better 
than  to  expect  it.  Warmed-overs,  pick-ups,  and  make-shifts  go 
as  naturally  with  wash-day  as  the  odor  of  yellow  soap-suds  and  the 
steam-crumpled  hands  of  the  sulky  waitress. 

That  was  a wisely-sweet  device  of  a mother  whom  I once  knew, 
who  made  it  a rule  and  practice  to  go  into  the  kitchen  herself  on 
Monday,  and  prepare  savory  entrees  or  delicate  desserts,  selecting 
the  favorite  dishes  of  husband  and  children  in  turn.  It  was  her 
opportunity  for  trying  new  recipes,  and  there  was  a pretence  of 
mystery  about  the  bill-of-fare  that  brought  the  participants  in  the 
feast  to  it  with  eager,  smiling  faces  and  merry  tongues.  It  was  the 
only  household  I ever  saw  where  Monday  was  heartily  welcomed. 
The  knowledge  that  the  mamma’s  dainty  surprises  were  the 
expression  of  her  resolution  to  lift  her  charges  above  the  reach  of 
the  soapy  surf,  lent  sentiment  and  poetry  to  the  material  comforts 
of  her  providing. 


no 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Wiser  still  is  she  who  dares  on  this  question  to  think,  decide 
and  act  for  herself : to  do  all  that  one  woman  can  to  remove  the 
odium  from  the  luckless  day  by  shifting  the  fardel,  and  dividing 
the  weight.  It  seems  so  rationally  expedient  to  attempt  this,  that 
we  are  astounded  at  our  own  slowness  of  apprehension  and  the 
narrowness  of  mind  which  indisposes  us  to  a beneficent  innovation. 

Little  housework  is  done  on  Sunday,  less  than  on  any  other  day  of 
the  seven.  If  ever  a room  is  dusted  carelessly,  a bed  made  up  “with 
a lick  and  a promise,”  as  our  black  mammies  used  to  say,  books 
and  papers  tossed  aside  to  be  put  to  rights  by-and-by — this  is  the 
time.  “ Father  and  boys  ” spend  the  day  at  home.  It  is  needless 
to  enter  into  particulars  of  such  occupation,  or  to  sketch  the  house 
they  leave  behind  them  in  their  Monday  morning  flight.  Nothing  is 
where  it  was  at  nightfall  on  Saturday  night ; but  who  is  to  restore 
order?  Mamma’s  execution  of  “up-stairs  work  ” is  as  if  one  hand 
were  tied  behind  her.  The  maids  have  no  time  to  think  of  anything 
but  “ getting  out  the  clothes.”  With  more  to  do  in  her  special  depart- 
ment than  at  any  other  season,  the  head  of  the  establishment  is  crip- 
pled in  power.  Should  she  emulate  my  heroine,  and  supplement  the 
typical  wash-day  dinner  (with  what  groanings  are  the  words  uttered 
and  heard  !)  by  toothsome  manufacture  of  her  own  devising,  the  menu 
is  restricted  by  the  pre-emption  on  the  part  of  the  boiler  of  the  top  of 
the  range,  and  the  moral  and  material  disorganization  of  the  lower 
regions — which  then,  if  ever,  deserve  their  name.  The  ovens  are 
out  of  temper ; dressers  are  crowded  with  pans  of  starch  ; piles  of 
wrung-out  clothes  in  big  baskets  stand  about  on  chairs  ; the  priestess 
of  the  abhorrent  rites  is  damp  and  dangerous. 

Our  “ brave  lady  ” of  the  future  will  apply  the  screw  tactfully 
which  is  to  bring  herself  and  household  up  to  washing-day  ten- 
sion. Monday’s  breakfast  will  be  excellent  and  nicely  cooked, 
and  not  slurred  over  with  loins  girt  for  a start,  and  staff  in  hand. 


WHY  MONDAY? 


Ill 


The  maids  fresh  from  yesterday’s  surcease  of  labor,  will  be  in 
spirits  and  bodily  case  for  a thorough  sweeping,  dusting  and  setting 
to  rights  of  the  whole  house.  Luncheon-time  will  find  everything 
in  place.  That  meal  and  dinner  will  be  of  materials  bought  and 
prepared  for  this  especial  occasion,  and  of  quality  that  will  revive 
the  hearts  of  lesson-learners  in  whose  mind  the  trail  of  tasks,  con- 
ned on  Saturday,  got  cold  over  Sunday.  The  soiled  linen  will  be 
brought  down  stairs  in  the  afternoon,  sorted,  and  if  need  be,  mended, 
then  the  white  things  be  put  to  soak.  Supplies  of  soap,  starch, 
bluing,  etc.,  will  be  inspected  and  laid  ready  to  hand ; bread  baked 
and  a custard  or  pudding  or  cream,  or  blanc-mange,  prepared  for  the 
morrow;  and  the  servants,  always  up  later  on  Sunday  night  than 
any  other,  because  of  outings  and  “ company,”  be  sent  early  to  bed 
to  be  ready  for  Tuesday’s  wash.  The  whole  system — mental,  moral, 
and  physical — will  be  brought  up  naturally  and  gradually  to  the 
wrestle  with  the  omnipresent,  haunting  demon  of  civilization — 
Dirt. 


SOME  words  are  inherently  vulgar ; some  are  dragged  into 

vulgarity  by  association  ; some  have  vulgarity  thrust  upon 

them.  To  this  latter  class  belongs  the  pretty  dissylable 

which  stands  as  the  caption  of  this  article. 

Everybody  knows  where  we  got  it.  “Loaf-giver,”  or  “loaf- 

server,”  in  the  Saxon,  described  the  mistress  of  manor  or  castle, 

whose  was  the  dispensing  power  and  office.  The  title  brings  up 

ancient  and  gracious  pictures  to  the  mind.  The  rude,  abundant 

hospitality  of  the  Saxon  “ franklin  ” owed  its  every  softening 

feature  to  the  presence  at  the  board  of  the  stately  woman  whose 

rule  in  kitchen  and  bower-room  was  as  strict,  yet  gentler  than  that 

of  her  lord  in  hall  and  court-yard.  We  dream,  as  we  speak  the 

words  “ hlaf'‘'‘  and  “ d2ga7i^'‘  of  the  fair  Lattice,  wife  of  Prince  Guy 

of  Warwick,  who  for  twenty,  say  some — others,  forty  years — 

superintended  the  feeding  at  her  castle  gate  of  all  the  poor  who 

would  come,  none  receiving  less  than  a loaf  apiece ; of  Elizabeth  of 

Hungary,  and  the  apronful  of  loaves  that  became  roses  to  her 

husband’s  scrutiny — a story  we  never  tire  of  hearing;  of  Katherine 

Parr’s  sweet,  dark  eyes  glistening  with  tears  at  the  thanks  of  her 

pensioners  ; of  our  own  New  England  ancestresses,  in  high  heels, 

powder,  hoop  and  farthingale,  looking  wisely  after  the  ways  of  the 

households,  yet  receiving  and  holding,  until  within  this  century, 

112 


LADY.” 


the  unsolicited  title  of  “ Lady  ” from  parishioners  and  neighbors. 
Who  does  not  acknowledge  the  right  of  Mrs.  Stowe’s  ‘‘  Lady 
Lothrop  ” to  her  dignities  ? And  how  many  can  recollect  our 
grandmother’s  mention  of  “ Old  Lady  ” This  or  That,  as  a 
presiding  figure  in  the  narrator’s  early  life  ? 

Philology  and  tradition  clearly  define  a lady  as  one  who  has 
more  to  give  than  her  neighbors,  and  whose  province  it  is  to  dispense 
to  the  less  fortunate.  Viewed  thus,  the  application  is  meaningful. 
To  support  it  aright,  there  must  be  superiority  to  the  commonalty, 
largeness  of  heart,  and  liberality  of  hand. 

Against  this  picture,  bracing  ourselves  for  the  nervous  shock, 
let  us  set  an  authentic  anecdote,  date  of  this  year  of  our  Lord,  1889. 

General  S , than  whom  no  warrior  is  more  beloved  and  honored 

of  his  country,  met  at  the  door  of  a hotel  at  which  he  was  sojourn- 
ing, during  a tour  of  travel  in  company  with  his  wife,  a colored 
man,  who  thus  accosted  him : 

“ General  S , I believe,  suh  ? Ken  you  tell  me  ef  dere’s  a 

wash-lady  ob  de  name  o’  Johnsing  at  present  engaged  in  dis  house  ? ” 

“ I know  nothing  of  the  employees  here.  I am  only  a traveler 
and  guest  in  the  hotel.” 

‘‘  Yes,  suh.  I know  dat,  of  co’se,  suh.  But  I t’ought  you 
might  ’a’  met  dis  partickler  wash-lady,  ’cause  she  done  tole  me  she 
had  some  clo’es  to  bring  home  for  a ’oman  named  S 

There  is  a degree  less  of  absurdity  in  another  anecdote  as  true, 
and  also  of  recent  date. 

In  one  of  the  largest  cities  in  America,  a “ boarding-home  ” for 
working-girls  received  a present  of  a handsome  sewing-machine  from 
the  manufacturer,  for  the  use  of  the  inmates.  On  a small  silver 
plate,  let  into  the  table,  was  engraved,  To  the  Working-women’s 
Home,  from .”  The  name  of  the  firm  followed. 


ii6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


The  gift  was  joyfully  received,  and,  for  some  weeks,  was  in 
almost  constant  use,  the  boarders  being  only  too  glad  of  this 
assistance  in  doing  their  own  sewing  in  the  evenings  and  off-hours. 
In  an  unlucky  moment  some  one  descried  the  modestly-obscure 
inscription,  and  proclaimed  the  tenor  thereof  A “ strike  ’’  was  the 
result.  Not  one  of  the  forty  girls  who  composed  the  family  would 
touch  the  machine  with  hand  or  foot.  So  excited  and  bitter  was  the 
run  of  feeling  against  it  that  the  matron  found  it  necessary  to  lay 
the  matter  before  the  Board  of  Managers.  Even  in  this  body, 
sympathizers  with  the  malcontents  were  not  wanting.  One  of  these 
energetically  condemned  the  wording  of  the  inscription  as  a covert, 
insult  to  the  class  the  donor  pretended  to  benefit. 

“ These  are  young  ladies^''  she  affirmed,  “ with  sensibilities  as 
acute  as  ours,  and  they  cannot,  without  violence  to  self-respect, 
overlook  the  wrong  done  them  personally,  and  as  a class.’’ 

After  a lively  debate,  a woman  of  high  social  standing  and 
intellectual  endowments  offered  a resolution  which,  being  carried 
unanimously,  stands  on  the  minutes  of  the  society  to  this  day  : 

“ Resolved^  That  the  Women  composing  the  Board  of  Managers 

of  the accept  the  sewing  machine  presented  by 

& Co.,  as  a gift  to  themselves,  and  that  the  matron  be  instructed  to 
convey  to  the  young  Ladies  now  resident  in  the  Boarding  Home, 
the  information  that  the  word  ‘ working-women  ’ on  the  machine 
applies  to  the  Board  of  Management,  and  not  to  the  boarders.” 

The  refinement  of  the  sarcasm  did  not  tell  perhaps  where  it 
should.  The  lesson  conveyed  by  the  incident  is  unmistakable. 

The  illustration  of  the  trend  of  vulgar  prejudice  against  what 
Sarah  Josepha  Hale  used  to  call  “ the  royal  name  of  woman,”  even 
o-utruns,  if  possible,  the  arrogant  claim  of  silly  illiteracy  to  a title 
they  deserve  in  no  one  respect. 


lady;^ 


II7 


One  must,  in  mental  and  spiritual  stature,  get  her  head  well 
above  the  dust  of  conceit  and  the  fogs  of  ignorance  before  she  can 
appreciate  the  dignity  of  true  womanhood.  Her  business  in  life 
may  be  that  of  selling  “ notions  ’’  over  a counter.  In  the  calm  con- 
sciousness that  she  is  as  respectable  in  her  station  as  the  wife  of  a 
millionaire  in  hers,  she  will  not  throw  up  her  place  because  the 
floor-walker  inadvertently  alludes  in  her  hearing  to  “ saleswomen,” 
instead  of  “ salesladies.”  As  the  honest  and  capable  superintendent 
of  a mill,  she  is  royally  careless  whether  or  not  she  be  mentioned 
as  a forelady.” 

Ruskin’s  oft-quoted  deliverance  on  this  subject  is  apt  here : 

“It  is  now  long  since  the  women  of  England  arrogated,  univer- 
sally, a title  which  once  belonged  to  nobility  only  ; and  having  once 
been  in  the  habit  of  accepting  the  title  of  gentlewoman,  as 
correspondent  to  that  of  gentleman,  insisted  on  the  privilege  of 
assuming  the  title  of  ‘ Lady,’  which  properly  corresponds  only  to 
the  title  of  ‘ Lord’.” 

The  correspondent  title  to  “ Lady  ” being  “ Lord,”  our  feminine 
sticklers  for  the  appellation  should  allude  to  fellow-workers  of  the 
other  gender  as,  “saleslords,”  “ forelords,”  and  to  John  Chinaman, 
as  “ washlord.”  Or,  to  be  a trifle  more  moderate  and  less  ridicu- 
lous in  stating  the  necessity  of  the  case,  the  least  that  their  brothers 
can  ask  is  that  they  be  registered  as  “ foregentlemen  ” and  “ sales- 
gentlemen.” 

If  all  this  sounds  like  trifling,  be  it  remembered  at  what  door  the 
folly  lies.  High  life  below-stairs  is  a favorite  theme  with  the 
satirist,  mainly  because  it  offers  so  many  salient  points  of  attack. 
It  may  be  said  that  in  a Republic  there  should  be  no  “below-stairs.” 
In  one,  and  the  best  sense,  there  is  none.  Strictly  speaking,  nothing 
is  vulgar  except  groundless  pretension? 


ri8 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


“ Honor  and  shame  from  no  condition  rise  ; 

Act  well  your  part.  There  all  the  honor  lies.” 

Au  Eiiglisliiiiaii  said  it,  and  may  have  been  sincere  in  the 
enunciation  of  the  dogma.  In  America,  it  is  so  true  that  it  should 
be  lettered  in  public  places,  be  embroidered  and  hungup,  instead  of 
pious  sampler-mottoes,  in  onr  homes.  Action,  and  not  condition, 
makes  the  noble  man  and  the  noble  woman.  The  more  stanch  one’s 
self-respect,  the  more  careless  is  he  or  she  of  the  frippery  of  a title. 
The  broader  the  platform  of  dignity,  the  more  room  he  who  stands 
thereon  has  for  ease  of  movement.  Such  fierce  assumption  of  the 
scanty  rag  of  a name,  such  touchiness  of  resentment  at  imaginary 
imputations,  and  the  incessant  uneasiness  lest  the  aforesaid  tatters 
be  torn  way — are  like  the  movements  of  the  captain’s  harum-scarum 
son  (familiar  to  us  all  in  the  days  of  “ Angell’s  Reader”),  when 
having  climbed  to  the  main-truck,  he  suddenly  appreciated  the 
narrowness  of  his  foothold,  and  the  height  of  the  mast. 

To  continue  the  familiar  quotation  from  Ruskin  : 

“ I do  not  blame  them  for  this  ; but  only  for  their  narrow  motive 
in  this.  I would  have  them  desire  and  claim  the  title  of  Lady,  pro- 
vided they  claim,  not  merely  the  title,  but  the  office  and  duty 
signified  by  it.” 

The  author  of  ‘‘  Five  Talents  of  Woman  ” also  gives  this  quota- 
tion, and  yet,  a few  chapters  later,  we  come  upon  this  : 

“ Lady-help  wanted  as  housemaid  in  small  family  where  cook 
and  nurse  are  ladies.” 

“We  have  just  read  the  above  advertisement,  and  hope  that  we 
may  take  it  as  an  indication  that  the  ‘ lady-help’  system  is  not 
altogether  a failure.  When  real  ‘ladies’  become  cooks  and  nurses, 
it  will  be  a grand  success.  A real  lady  kuows  that  she  is  just  as 
much  a lady  when  she  sweeps  a room  as  when  she  plays  upon  a 
piano,  or  sits  on  a sofa  doing  crewel-work.” 


“ lady;» 


II9 

Without  staying  to  comment  upon  the  certainty  that  the  above 
advertisement  in  an  American  paper  would  be  an  exaggerated  form 
of  the  evil  we  deprecate,  I remark  that  American  ladies — born  and 
bred — do  cook,  nurse,  and  sweep  rooms,  usually  in  their  own  houses, 
occasionally  in  other  people’s,  and  for  wages.  But  these  are  not 
the  clamorers  for  the  name  of  “ lady”  in  contradistinction  to  that  of 
“ woman.”  She  upon  whom  are  laid  “ the  office  and  the  duty  signi- 
fied by  the  title,”  and  who  honorably  fills  one  and  discharges  the 
other,  is  content  to  await  others’  award  of  the  honor  due  her. 


/ 


Mouse  or  Rat? 

Popular  anecdotes,  like  meteoric  showers,  have  periodical 
returns.  After  forty  years  or  so,  we  elderly  people  are 
surprised  if  the  threadbare  saying  or  joke  is  not  returned 
upon  us  unchanged,  or  fitted  out  with  a spick-and-span 
application  to  suit  the  present  day.  Our  fathers  called  them  “ old 
soldiers,”  our  children  brand  them  as  “ chestnuts.” 

A story  that  has  taken  half  a century  to  describe  its  orbit  was 
told  in  my  hearing  the  other  day  to  illustrate  a political  squabble. 
The  Honorable  Somebody  has  used  it  with  telling  effect  in  a cam- 
paign speech.  We  smiled  and  sighed,  a generation  ago,  over  the 
even-then  ancient  incident  of  the  pattern  married  couple  who  were 
divorced  because  they  could  not  agree  whether  the  rodent  that  ran 
across  the  hearth  was  a mouse  or  a rat. 

After  a fierce  fight  of  tongues  for  two  hours,  hysterics  attacked 
the  wife,  and  manly  compunction  the  husband. 

They  made  up, 

“ And  kissed  again  with  tears.” 

“ How  could  we  be  so  wicked  ? ” sobbed  Madame. 

“And  so  irrational  ? ” chimed  in  Monsieur.  “And  all  on  account 
of  an  insignificant  mouse  I ” 


MOUSE  OR  RAT? 


I2I 


“A  mouse ! A rat,  you  mean,  my  love  ! ” cried  Madame,  briskly, 
raising  the  face,  wet  with  penitent  tears,  from  her  husband’s  breast. 

“ My  darling ! how  absurd ! It  was  a mouse,  I tell  you.  It  was 
nearer  to  me  than  to  you,  and  I saw  it  distinctly.” 

‘‘  And  I vow  there  was  never  so  big  a mouse  made ! Haven’t  I 
eyes  as  well  as  you  ? ” 

Etcetera,  etcetera,  until  the  breach  was  incurable. 

The  student  of  human  nature,  who  has  plied  his  trade  for  above 
a score  of  years,  finds  it  hard  to  laugh  at  the  satire  on  his  kind, 
even  at  the  first  hearing.  The  keen  little  scalpel  goes  too  near  the 
bone,  and  mangles  too  many  nerves. 

The  stubborn  determination  to  set  people  right,  at  whatever 
sacrifice  of  time,  temper  and  cellular  tissue,  has  wrought  its  wicked 
will  to  a woful  worst  among  the  children  of  men  since  the  day  in 
which  our  common  mother  insisted  upon  modifying  her  husband’s 
opinion  of  the  forbidden  fruit.  Then,  if  never  since,  it  was  the  man 
who  had  intuition  on  his  side,  and  the  woman  with  whom  rested 
the  burden  of  argument  and  demonstration. 

Friends  of  years  become  deadly  enemies,  children  forswear- 
parents,  and  parents  disinherit  children ; political  partisans  cut  one 
another’s  throats  ; churches  are  riven  to  the  corner-stone,  and  nation 
declares  war  against  nation,  from  age  to  age,  for  no  better  reason 
than  the  inability  of  the  individual  man  to  allow  his  brother  to  be 
mistaken.  Religion  and  her  preferred  handmaiden.  Courtesy,  pre- 
scribe no  more  arduous  task  for  those  who  would  obey  both. 
“ Mouse  or  rat  ? ” sets  society  by  the  ears. 

In  the  home — the  woman’s  world — it  does  more  mischief  than 
bad  temper  and  greediness.  It  is  here  that  the  mother’s  work  of 
running  down  and  exterminating  the  little  foxes  that  will,  in  their 
early  maturity,  waste  the  vineyard,  begins.  The  course  of  treat- 
ment is  indicated  by  the  nursery-rule : “ It  is  not  polite  to 


122 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


contradict.”  Contradiction — verbal — being  the  outcome  of  the 
moral  inability  aforesaid,  this  dogma  strikes  the  evil  directly  on  the 
head.  The  pity  of  it  is  that  the  rule  so  generally  goes  to  the  wall 
when  the  nursery  doors  are  cleared. 

Shrewd  Jacob  Abbott  in  the  unsurpassable  “ Rollo  Book,”  tells 
of  a foolish  fellow  who  mistook  the  moon-rise  for  a fire,  and  was 
greatly  exercised  by  the  apprehension.  While  he  stood  gaping  at 
the  red  sky,  “ a vulgar  fellow  ” came  riding  by  in  his  own  carriage, 
and  was  accosted  by  the  clown  with  the  tidings  of  the  conflagration. 
The  vulgarian  disputed  the  assertion. 

“ It  is  the  moon,  you  fool ! Can’t  you  see  that  ? ” 

Argument  and  dogged  reiteration  ran  high  for  awhile,  and 
the  owner  of  'the  equipage  drove  off,  furious  with  the  other’s 
stupidity. 

Presently  along  came  a gentleman  driving  a wagon. 

“ Look  at  the  big  fire  over  yonder ! ” called  the  clown. 

“ Ah ! ” said  the  gentleman,  pleasantly,  “ I hope  they  will  be 
able  to  put  it  out,”  and  drove  on  his  way. 

The  pith  and  power  of  a volume  upon  breeding,  good  sense,  and 
forbearance  with  what  cannot  be  cured,  are  condensed  into  the  little 
episode  so  quaintly  narrated.  Inherent  vulgarity  in  high  places 
contradict  and  wrangles  over  an  unpractical  trifling  difference 
of  belief.  Inherent  courtesy  does  not  challenge  another’s  assertion 
causelessly.  To  allow  other  people  to  remain  in  what  we  consider 
error,  requires  strength  of  mind,  true  dignity,  and  a fine  sense  of 
perspective. 

A sprightly  girl  once  gave  a gracefitl  illustration  of  this  point. 
In  conversation  with  a conceited  ignoramus,  she  chanced  to  say  : — 
“ I thought  it  was 

Her  superior  in  sex  instantly  corrected  her,  in  an  undertone,  to 
spare  lier  feelings  : 


MOUSE  OR  RAT? 


123 


“ Beg  pardon,  you  know  ! But  you  meant  to  say,  ‘ I thought  it 
was  him!'  Make  it  a point  of  honor,  you  know,  to  call  my  friends^ 
attention  to  lapses  of  this  sort,  you  know.  It’s  true  kindness,  don’t 
you  see  ? No  offence,  I hope  ? ” 

The  girl’s  face  was  a merry  dance  of  dimple  and  gleam. 

“ None,  I assure  you ! ” she  replied.  On  the  contrary,  I am 
your  debtor.” 

As  she  was — for  a good  story. 

The  conscientious  desire  to  amend  the  ways  and  notions  of  one’s 
friends  is  the  specious  excuse  offered  by  wiser  people  than  our 
coxcomb  for  what  is,  when  analyzed,  the  unlovely  weakness  we  are 
trying  to  depict  in  this  paper.  What  is  it  to  me  that  my  neighbor 
holds  opinions  diverse  to  mine  with  regard  to  pie-making  and 
predestination  ? Or,  to  her  that  I prefer  George  Eliot  to  Miss 
Braddon?  You  may  think  your  sister’s  new  Moquette  carpet  a 
nuisance  because  the  broom  gathers  fluff  in  double-handfuls  during 
the  first  six  months  of  wear,  and  she,  that  the  pattern  of  your  Axmin- 
ster  is  stiff  or  trite — and  neither  be  the  wiser  (and  worse)  for  the 
other’s  opinion.  If  you  would  have  sisterly  love  continue,  reserve 
on  many  points  is  a grace  you  do  well  to  cultivate. 

“ I must  tell  the  dear  girl  that  she  hurries  the  accompaniment 
in  that  song,”  I heard  a musician  say.  “ It  is  one  of  my  especial 
favorites,  and  her  style  of  rendering  it  excruciates  my  nerves. 
It  would  be  a real  kindness  to  drop  her  a hint.  Nobody  but  a true 
friend  would  do  it.” 

There  was  the  unconscious  offense  of  the  performer.  His  ear 
was  pained,  his  sense  of  fitness  outraged. 

In  like  selfish  regard  for  our  own  sentiments,  tastes,  whims  and 
ways,  is  rooted  nine-tenths  of  the  officious  setting-to-rights  going  on 
in  homes  and  communities.  The  inability  to  look  on,  resignedly 
and  indulgently,  while  others  make  blunders  (according  to  our  code) 


124 


PIOUSK  AND  HOME. 


is  seen,  under  the  microscope  of  impartial  scrutiny,  to  be  egotism  of 
a pronounced  type.  The  man  who  is  always  right,  and  bent  upon 
dragging  his  associates  up  to  his  level  of  observation,  is  a pest 
always  and  everywhere.  His  conceit,  obstinacy,  and  intolerance  are 
the  animus  of  his  zeal.  The  blatant  reformer  is  most  restive 
under  criticism  of  himself. 

It  is  the  really  profound  and  temperate  thinker  who  does  not 
resent  being  sometimes  in  the  wrong.  Why  should  we  object  to 
saying  in  effect?  “ I am  wiser  now  than  I was  at  the  time  I made 
the  statement  you  quote  against  me.  I thouglit  and  said  such 
a thing  last  year,  or  last  month.  I have  learned  better  since.” 

The  mind  and  character  of  such  an  one  will  never  be  pruned,  as 
were  the  peacock  box-trees  of  a hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  along 
set  and  rigid  lines.  While  he  exists,  he  will  be  a living  creature 
that  grows  and  betters  himself,  not  a mummy  done  up  in  cerements 
and  drugs. 

The  world  over,  the  supreme  duty  of  minding  one’s  own  busi- 
ness presupposes  wholesome  neglect  of  other  people’s.  Violation  of 
this  principle  begets  gossip,  scandal,  slander — the  three  hang 
together  as  naturally  in  evil  sequence  as  self,  sin,  and  suffering. 
All  enlarge  and  multiply  with  the  using.  It  is  the  converse  of 
philanthropy  that  impels  us  to  try  to  pull  straight  a web  that  is 
not  of  our  weaving,  and  was  never  intended  for  our  wearing.  Let 
the  mistaken  thinker  cry  “ mouse  ” all  day  long  unchallenged,  even 
though  you  may  have  caught,  killed  and  made  an  autopsy  of  the  rat. 
In  minor  details  of  belief  and  shades  of  opinion,  none  of  us  is  his 
brother’s  keeper. 

Considered  as  a domestic  and  social  evil,  this  is  outranked  by  few. 
I'rom  infancy,  the  boy  disputes  with  yells  and  blows  abstract  tenet's, 
knowing  tliem  to  be  trivial  and  impersonal  in  character.  The  per- 


MOUSE  OR  RAT? 


125 

centage  of  vital  interests  which  are  the  theme  of  excited  discussion, 
is  pitiably  small. 

The  height  of  a monument  in  one  of  the  ruined  cities  of  Cen- 
tral America ; the  color  of  an  absent  friend’s  hair  or  eyes  ; the  age 
of  a reigning  belle  ; the  number  of  a second  cousin’s  grandmother’s 
children  ; the  question  of  leaving  the  spoon  in  saucer  or  cup — are 
not  concrete  concerns  to  this  generation,  or  the  one  following. 

Let  other  people — even  our  nearest  of  blood — be  mistaken  once 
in  a great  while  ! The  effort  to  accomplish  this  miracle  of  magna- 
nimity is  recommended  as  wholesome  discipline  for  the  temper.  In 
attempting  it,  you  will  learn  enough  of  your  hitherto  unsuspected 
weaknesses  to  help  you  hold  your  tongue  the  next  time  you  hearken 
to  a political  heresy,  or,  what  is  to  your  way  of  thinking,  an  unten- 
able religious  or  literary  dogma.  Untenable  to  one  of  your  mental 
and  moral  build,  but  the  holder  enjoys  the  possession  thereof.  If 
he  flaunts  it  in  your  eyes,  shut  them.  If  he  springs  his  hypothesis 
like  a watchman’s  rattle  in  your  ears,  get  away  from  the  din.  By 
the  unholy  frenzy  which  urges  you  to  rob  him  of  his  toy,  or,  failing 
this,  to  throttle  the  praise  of  it  in  his  windpipe,  you  may  be  awakened 
to  a sad  and  salutary  truth  that  may  quench  the  proselyting  ardor 
within  you,  and  make  you  willing  to  leave  him  unconverted. 


Household  Worries. 


5 HE  round  of  a woman’s  daily  life  may  be  characterized  as  one 
part  work,  three-parts  worry. 

Her  husband’s  day-by-day  labor  is  usually  one-part 
worry,  and  three-parts  work. 

The  weight,  strain  and  rub  of  her  duties  fall  upon  the  heart 
and  nerves.  The  heavy  pull  of  his  is  upon  muscle  and  mind. 

There  are  many  reasons  why  this  should  be  so,  and  why  the 
disposition  of  life’s  work  will  always  be  thus  apportioned.  Men 
have  strength — women,  endurance.  Men  are  courageous — women, 
patient. 

Let  the  fault  lie  where  it  may,  it  is  undeniable  that  the  machinery 
with  which  wives  keep  homes  in  running  order,  providing  for  phys- 
ical and  ministering  to  moral  needs,  would  not  be  tolerated  by  their 
spouses  in  their  places  of  business  for  a day.  The  mechanic  who  does 
not  understand  his  trade  ; the  indolent  and  inattentive  clerk ; the 
book-keeper  who  cannot  make  out  a correct  balance-sheet — lose  their 
several  positions  as  a direct  consequence  of  inefficiency.  Each  man, 
on  taking  the  place,  comprehends  this  fully. 

The  employer’s  “ That’s  not  my  way  of  doing  business,  young 
man  ! ” is  trial,  conviction  and  sentence,  all  in  one  formula.  The 

136 


HOUSEHOLD  WORRIES. 


127 


law.s  of  commerce  are  inexorable.  The  comfort  of  customers,  the 
reputation  of  the  firm,  and  the  future  income  are  periled  when 
“ a poor  job  ” is  turned  out  of  the  factory. 

“ The  boss’s  ” standard  of  excellence  may  not  be  high  in  the 
estimation  of  his  neighbors.  That  is  his  affair,  and  his  the  responsi- 
bility of  obedience  to  orders.  Wherever  he  sets  his  mark,  his 
employees  must  work  up  to  it,  or  quit ! Nobody  disputes  his  right  to 
audit  accounts  ; to  visit  ever^^  nook  of  his  establishment  whenever 
he  pleases  ; to  order  strict  investigation  and  make  merciless  exposures 
should  he  decide  that  such  are  for  the  interest  of  the  “ concern.” 
Over  confidence  in  subordinates  is  reckoned  by  his  knowing  com- 
peers as  lax  management,  and  affects  his  status  as  a competent 
manager. 

So  much  for  the  masculine  head  of  the  house.  He  can  take 
care  of  himself,  and  of  a business  which  runs,  much  of  the  way,  in 
worn  and  oiled  grooves.  In  the  thickest  and  darkest  part  of  the 
“ woods,”  he  is  guided,  to  some  extent,  by  the  “ blaze  ” of  precedent. 

Turn  we,  now,  to  the  woman  to  whom  is  committed  the  duty  of 
expending  judiciously  the  money  her  husband  makes.  At  the  out- 
set of  the  practice  of  a profession  (for  which,  by-the-by,  she  may 
have  had  little  or  no  training),  she  is  confronted  by  the  terrific 
discovery  that  there  are  no  stable  general  rules  for  the  conduct  of 
her  household.  Beyond  the  fixed  and  unsatisfactory  points  that 
meals  must  be  prepared,  and  the  house  kept  in  some  sort  of  order, 
the  novice’s  nebulous  notions  of  ways  and  means  get  little  help 
toward  steadiness  and  substance  from  oral  or  written  laws.  Veteran 
housekeepers  are  officious  with  wisdom  learned  from  experience, 
and  the  tale  of  each  differs  from  the  rest.  Of  printed  manuals, 
there  is  a superfluity.  She  who  heeds  all,  or  one-tenth  of  them, 
will  be  beaten  prone  and  breathless. 


128 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Those  who  have  read  the  delightful  sketch  of  “ Mrs.  Miidlaw’s 
Potato  Pudding,”  will  recall  the  despairing  dismay  with  which  the 
inquirer  put  up  paper  and  pencil  at  tlie  end  of  half  an  hour’s  boot- 
less catechism  of  the  cook,  and  moved  the  latter  to  voicefnl  ire  by 
remarking : 

“ So  yon  have  no  particular  rule  for  making  it  ? ” 

In  such  calm  desperation  does  onr  young  wife  make  up  her 
mind,  early  in  the  domestic  novitiate,  that  everybody  keeps  house 
according  to  a rule  of  her  own,  cacli  doing  what  seems  good  (or 
practicable)  in  her  own  eyes,  under  her  husband’s  vine  and  fig-tree, 
with  many  to  molest  and  make  her  afraid.  Slie  must  formulate 
creed  and  by-laws  for  herself,  and  try  the  effect  of  the  code  upon 
untried  and  heterogenous  material. 

The  story  of  blunders,  failures,  mortifications,  and  distresses 
w^onld  wring  the  heart  of  narrator  and  auditor.  She  may  have  a 
full  corps  of  nominal  helpers  at  her  back,  who  ought  to  be  account- 
able for  waste  and  wreck,  but  when  the  day  of  reckoning  comes, 
she  finds  herself  set  in  the  forefront  of  the  array,  with  nobody  to 
share  the  blame  with  her.  Men  are  often  most  unfair  to  us  in  this 
respect.  The  merchant  does  not  consider  himself  obliged  to  stand 
by  a clerk  who  comes  to  him  well  recommended,  and  watch  him  by 
the  hour  and  day,  to  see  that  he  gives  good  measure,  and  is  civil 
and  obliging.  It  is  a rule  of  trade  that  the  administration  and 
execution  are  different  branches  of  business.  The  Southern  negroes 
have  a saying  which  expresses  the  popular  judgment  on  this  head. 
They  say  of  one  who  pays  others  to  do  work  he  is,  after  all,  obliged, 
by  reason  of  their  incompetency,  to  perform  himself,  that  “ he  keeps 
a dog,  and  then  docs  his  own  barking.”  Yet  the  business  man, 
with  a full  appreciation  of  what  his  “ hands  ” are  expected  to  achieve, 
recognizes  but  one  culprit  when  the  stairs  are  dusty  in  his  dwelling, 
and  the  souj)  ovcrsaltcd.  It  is  not  enough  for  him  to  be  assured 


HOUSEHOLD  WORRIES. 


129 


that  his  wife  has  given  explicit  orders  in  each  department ; that  the 
housemaid  professes  to  understand  her  business,  and  the  cook  to 
be  skilled  in  her  craft — moreover,  that  the  sensibilities  of  our 
domestic  crews  will  not  brook  espionage  and  overstrict  inquiry. 
The  mistress  who  “ follows  up  ” her  assistants  zealously  will  shortly 
be  spared  further  trouble  in  that  line  by  having  no  helpers,  in  name 
or  in  deed,  to  supervise. 

Our  domestic  potentate  reasons  out  none  of  these  merciful  con- 
clusions. “ In  his  establishment,  the  v/ork  is  properly  done,  or  he 
knows  the  reason  why.  A man  has  a right  to  expect,  when  he  has 
been  slaving  for  his  family  all  day,  that  some  regard  should  be  paid 
to  his  comfort  at  home.” 

Happy  she  who  is  not  familiar  with  this,  and  much  more  of  the 
same  sort  of  talk — who  has  not  cowered  like  a slave  under  the 
knout,  in  the  agony  of  self-upbraidings,  joined  to  the  stinging 
rebuke  of  him  who  feeds,  clothes  and  lodges  her,  and  who  adjudges 
her  to  be  a faithless  steward.  This  is  one  of  the  ways  by  which  our 
American  women  grow  up  to  be  a proverb  for  premature  decrepi- 
tude. The  husband  looks  on  with  impatient  wonder  as  the  pretty, 
lively  girl  sinks  into  the  careworn  wife — a condition  hardly 
ameliorated  by  the  increase  of  worldly  wealth.  The  more 
conscientious  she  is,  the  more  anxious  she  becomes  rightly  to 
administer  the  affairs  of  her  viceroyalty.  With  the  enlargement  of 
her  establishment,  cares  thicken.  The  more  servants  she  employs, 
the  more  she  has  to  oversee  and  regulate,  the  further  the  fulcrum 
and  weight  are  removed  from  the  power.  The  kitchens  of  many 
rich  people  are  overrun  by  a predatory  gang,  that  come  and  go  like 
grasshoppers.  While  there  are  neither  laws,  nor  a pretense  of 
system  in  our  domestic  service,  the  best  and  wisest  of  us  are  not 
exempt  from  change  and  spoliation.  American  housewives  are  the 
most  defenseless  class  of  workers  in  the  community. 


T30 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Here  let  ns  pause,  as  on  the  brink  of  an  uneasy  ocean  forever 
casting  up  mire  and  dirt.  It  is  not  the  object  of  this  chapter  to 
propose  remedial  measures  for  the  national  evil.  Thus  far,  pro- 
posed checks  have  been  like  the  whips  with  which,  at  the  silly 
monarch’s  command,  his  creatures  scourged  the  waves,  and  the 
fetters  the  sea  tossed  back  to  his  feet. 

A thoughtful  sketch  written  by  Helen  Evertson  Smith,  treats  as 
a womanly  defect  a want  of  the  sense  of  proportion,  in  considering 
and  handling  a subject.  Here  lies  the  secret  of  the  wear  and  tear 
that  grind  the  housewife  to  dust-and-ashes  before  she  has  told  out 
half  her  days.  She  can  hardly  overniaguify  the  office  of  wife  and 
house-mother.  She  does,  in  attempting  to  fill  it,  exaggerate  thorn- 
pricks  into  stabs,  and  dignify  vexation  into  affliction.  The  surest 
way  to  spoil  a subordinate,  and  to  unsettle  her  ideas  of  proportion  is 
to  let  her  see  that  she  has  the  power  to  wound  her  mistress  and 
affect  the  happiness  of  the  family  she  serves  for  hire.  The  ruler 
steps  from  her  platform  to  a lower  level  than  her  subordinate,  when 
she  condescends  to  plead  and  supplicate,  where  the  right  to 
command  is  also  a duty.  Household-worries  should  never  reach 
below  the  surface.  In  proportion  to  real  sorrow,  they  are  gnats  and 
and  mosquitoes.  Nobody  ever  died  from  their  bite.  The  wife’s 
inner  life,  and  the  steady  equipoise  of  the  mother,  are  too  high  in 
value  to  be  sacrificed  to  ignoble  things. 

“ The  whole  world  is  not  worth  an  oath ! ” said  the  finest  prince 
of  the  Stuart  name,  when  one  of  his  courtiers  said  of  a misadven- 
ture which  befell  the  royal  hunting-party — 

“ Your  father, — Prince  Henry, — would,  were  he  in  your  place, 
swear  that  no  man  could  stand  it ! ” 

The  whole  world  of  minute  annoyances  that  beset  our  pains- 
taking housekeeper  in  the  effort  to  bring  the  work  of  hirelings  up 
to  her  standard  of  faithful  service,  is  not  worth  a tear — hardly  a 


m 

HOUSEHOLD  WORRIES.  13 1 

sigH.  The  philosophic  manager,  whose  sense  of  proportion  and  fit- 
ness is  above  the  average  of  her  sex,  takes  up  ashes  (figuratively) 
with  a long-handled  fire-shovel.  Our  anxious  and  troubled  (“  cum- 
bered ” in  the  original)  Martha  goes  down  upon  her  knees  on  the 
hearth,  and  plunges  her  tender  hands  into  the  heap. 

The  saddest,  and  one  of  the  most  significant  things  I ever  saw, 
was  a woman  in  an  insane  asylum,  who  did  nothing  all  day  long 
but  wash  and  polish  one  window-pane.  Nothing  diverted  her  from 
the  task.  With  puckered  forehead  and  folded  lips,  her  anxious 
eyes  set  on  the  glass,  she  breathed  upon  it,  scrubbed  it  with  her 
apron,  and  went  over  and  over  each  inch  of  the  shining  surface  until 
the  heart  of  the  beholder  ached  wearily.  She  had  been  doing  that 
one  thing,  and  nothing  else,  for  four  years.  Since  then,  she  has 
stood  with  me  as  the  type  of  thousands  whose  vision  is  narrowing 
hourly  through  absorption  in  work,  which  is  not  degrading  in  itself 
‘—which  is  excellent  in  its  time,  and  respectable  in  its  place — but 
was  never  meant  to  fill  the  horizon  of  any  human  being’s  mental  or 
spiritual  sight.  If 

“ Little  things,  on  little  wings, 

Bear  little  souls  to  heaven,” 

a multitude  of  little  things,  whose  wings  have  been  dropped  or  nib- 
bled away,  may  swarm  like  ants  upon  the  tortured  soul,  and  drag 
it  into  the  earth. 


Visited. 

IS  hospitality  a duty ? Let  us  pull  to  pieces  this  one  of  the  dear 
old  “ taken-for-grauteds,”  and  examine  it,  section  by  section. 
Holy  Writ  so  abounds  with  commendation  and  re-commenda- 
tion of  it,  that  we  must  put  the  canon,  with  numberless  lesser 
authorities,  into  the  background,  and  turn  our  eyes  steadfastly 
from  beholding  them  while  reconstructing  our  basis. 

Thus  stands  our  syllogism:  i.  A man’s  most  valuable  earthly 
possession  is  his  Home — the  term  including  the  satisfaction  he  has 
in  the  enjoyment  of  the  comforts,  pleasures,  and  sweet,  wholesome 
affections  which  make  up  domestic  life. 

2.  The  obligation  to  love  his  neighbor  as  himself,  to  do  good, 
and  to  communicate  of  what  has  been  freely  given  to  him,  is  second 
only  to  the  duty  of  love  to  God. 

The  conclusion  is  foregone. 

“ Use  hospitality  without  grudging,”  wrote  the  fisherman  Apos- 
tle, mindful,  it  may  be,  of  certain  unrecorded  passages  in  his  itiner- 
ant ministry.  The  revisers  have  weakened  the  injunction  in 
rendering  the  last  word,  “ unmurmuring.”  The  heart-giving,  frank 
and  free,  makes  tlie  ungracious  dole  of  hand  and  lip  impossible. 
Tlie  fact  has  ugly  significance  that,  with  the  increase  of  beauty  and 
luxury  in  our  homes,  the  practice  of  the  generous  virtue  has  declined 
into  a Crusoeish  disposition  to  draw  in  our  doorsteps  after  us  when 


VISITED. 


133 

we  enter  oiir  abodes.  The  latch-string  that  always  hung  on  the 
outside  has  been  superseded  by  spring-bolt  and  patent  key. 

This  is  not  pessimistic  platitude.  The  era  of  machinery  throws 
adjustable  bands  about  hearts,  reels  off,  marks  and  delivers 
sympathies  and  courtesies  to  order,  each  package  bearing  the  stamp, 
R.  S.  V.  P.”  Should  payment  be  withheld,  it  is  understood  that 
no  more  goods  will  be  delivered  to  that  address.  We  “ receive  ’’ 
and  “ entertain  ” on  a debit  and  credit  system ; invite  our  friends 
to  accept  our  hospitality  because  it  is  expected  of  us,  less  than 
because  we  want  to  see  them,  or  they  would  like  to  meet  us. 

Sometimes  this  is  sheer  selfishness ; oftener,  indolent  indiffer- 
ence ; oftenest,  because  our  lives  are  so  full  and  fast  that  the  cozy 
nooks  once  sacred  to  social  intercourse  are  done  away  with.  This  is 
as  it  should  be,  if  the  chief  end  of  man  be  to  make  himself  comfort- 
able. The  nobler  living,  rounded  into  perfection,  grows  to  be  thus 
spending  and  being  spent  for  others.  From  this  platform, 
hospitality  becomes  both  duty  and  privilege.  I cannot  afford,  in 
justice  to  myself,  not  to  ask  my  friends  to  my  house,  and  make 
them  happy  while  there.  The  general  principle  cannot  be  contro- 
verted. How  and  when  to  do  these  things  is  a question  to  be 
answered  differently  in  various  latitudes,  but  a few  rules  hold  good 
everywhere.  To  begin  with,  dismiss  as  a silly  fallacy,  however 
embrowned  it  may  be  with  age,  the  idea  of  treating  a visitor  “ quite 
as  one  of  the  family.”  As  the  countryman  said  when  offered  bread- 
and-butter  at  a Delmonico  lunch, — they  “ can  get  that  at  home.” 
Abroad,  they  look  for  a change  of  diet. 

When  a young  girl,  and  one  of  a gay  party  at  an  old  Virginia 
country  house,  I was  invited  to  pass  some  days  at  another  a few 
miles  away.  The  invitation  was  given  in  person  by  the  planter  and 
his  wife,  and  included  two  other  girls,  visitors  with  myself  at  the 
hospitable  mansion. 


134 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


“ Come  and  spend  a week — two  weeks — a month,  if  yon  can  ! ” 
we  were  bidden.  “ The  longer  yon  stay  the  happier  we  shall  be. 
We  never  make  strangers  of  our  friends,  but  consider  them  a part 
of  the  family.” 

Our  engagements  allowed  us  to  promise  but  three  days,  and 
with  this  understanding,  we  went  at  the  appointed  time. 

The  cJiatelaine  met  us  at  the  door,  was  “ delighted  to  see  ” us, 
directed  a maid  to  show  us  up  to  our  rooms,  and  told  us  to  “ feel 
entirely  at  home.”  We  wished  ourselve.s  there,  in  very  truth,  fifty 
times  before  nightfall.  Our  hostess  and  her  three  daughters  sat  on 
the  vine-shaded  piazza  with  their  needle-work,  and,  after  we  had 
found  chairs  for  ourselves,  chatted  gayly  together,  of  people  we  did 
not  know,  and  places  we  had  never  heard  of,  but  chiefly  of  personal 
and  family  affairs.  They  were  vivacious,  sometimes  witty,  but 
lacking  the  key,  we  were  more  bored  than  amused  by  their 
persiflage.  A couple  of  children  varied  the  performances  by  rush- 
ing against  us  in  their  romps,  tumbling  over  our  feet  and  wiping 
fruit-stained  fingers  on  our  gowns.  At  meals,  which  were  abundant 
and  elegant,  we  were  served  in  order  of  age,  the  mother  and  two 
elder  daughters  before  us,  and  the  table-talk  ran  on  brightly 
without  reference,  near  or  remote,  to  the  new-comers.  The  after- 
dinner  siesta  of  the  whole  party  was  alluded  to,  incidentally,  as  a 
household  habit  before  we  were  left  to  find  our  way  to  our  chambers, 
and  we  saw  nothing  more  of  our  entertamers  until  supper  time. 

The  gardens  were  fine,  and  we  might  ramble  in  them  if  we 
chose,  but  the  recreation  was  not  suggested  any  more  than  the 
noble  library  was  opened  to  us  as  a help  against  ejinui.  One  of  the 
daughters,  accompanied  by  a groom,  went  to  ride  in  the  late  after- 
noon ; the  father  took  a second  to  drive  early  in  the  next  morning, 
without  apology  to  those  who  were  left  behind.  All  three  practiced 
their  music,  which  was  excellent-  for  two  hours  at  a time.  Two  of 


MADE  TOO  MUCH  AT  HOME 


IliTIfillKii'nimM. 


VISITED. 


137 


them  sang  and  played  together  well,  and  spent  most  of  the  evening 
at  the  piano,  leaving  ns  free  to  talk  and  listen  at  our  pleasure,  while 
their  mother  knitted  placidly  on  one  side  of  the  center-table,  the 
third  daughter  playing  chess  with  her  father  on  the  other.  It  was 
an  amiable,  affectionate  home-group ; as  happy  in  and  among 
themselves  as  good  health  and  spirits  and  easy  circumstances  could 
make  them.  They  took  no  more  notice  of  ns  in  our  character  as 
guests  than  if  we  had  been  bodiless  spirits,  instead ‘of  pleasure- 
loving  girls,  who  had  left  a merry  circle  in  which  we  were  made 
much  of,  for  this  nondescript  existence. 

So  lost  and  homesick  were  we  that,  on  the  morning  of  the  second 
day,  we  watched  for  the  passing  of  the  country  postman,  and  privily 
despatched  a note  to  the  mother  of  one  of  the  trio,  begging  her  to 
contrive  an  excuse  for  sending  for  us  that  evening.  This  she  man- 
aged so  cleverly  that  not  one  of  the  free-and-easy  party  suspected 
why  our  visit  was  abridged,  or  that  we  had  an  irrational  prejudice 
against  being  made  an  (unconsidered)  part  of  the  family. 

Since  then,  I have  never  believed  people  who  tell  me  that  they 
“ do  not  like  to  be  made  company  of.”  Reason  enjoins  that  one  should 
fly  his  own  colors,  in  and  out  of  port.  Being  an  integral  part  of 
one  household,  he  can  enter  no  other  except  as  a guest,  nor  would 
he  if  he  could. 

It  follows,  as  a necessity,  if  you  would  treat  your  visitors  as  such, 
that  you  must  know  when  they  are  coming,  and  the  length  of  their 
stay,  in  order  to  prepare  a fitting  welcome.  The  English  define 
both  these  points  in  giving  invitations,  thereby  sparing  the  guests 
needless  perplexity.  If  you  say  explicitly,  “ Can  you  come  to  us 
on  Monday,  the  i8th  of  this  month,  and  remain  until  Friday  of  the 
same  week  ? ” your  friend  is  sure,  that  for  the  specified  period,  she 
occupies  her  own  place,  and  not  that  of  some  one  else  who  cannot 
come  until  she  has  gone,  while  you  can  put  your  domestic  affairs 


HOUvSE  AND  HOME. 


138 

into  such  a shape  that  you  can  thoroughly  enjoy  intercourse  with 
her. 

The  fashion  of  “ At  Home  ” days  is  gaining  favor  rapidly  with 
those  who  once  condemned  it  as  formal  and  subversive  of  genuine 
friendliness.  The  woman  who  engraves  the  name  of  a certain  day, 
afternoon  or  evening,  on  her  visiting  cards  as  the  time  wdien  she  is 
ready  and  glad  to  receive  calls,  says,  in  effect,  that  she  appreciates 
the  desire  of  her  acquaintances  to  see  her,  and  sets  too  high  a value 
on  their  time  and  hers  to  risk  the  loss  of  a visit.  She  furthermore 
marks  her  recognition  of  the  duty  of  hospitality  by  resigning  a 
stated  portion  of  the  week  to  the  performance  of  the  grateful  task. 
Her  visitors  are  never  doubtful  as  to  the  chances  of  inconveniencing 
her,  or  of  finding  her  within  doors.  She  belongs,  by  choice,  on  that 
day,  to  all  who  will  come,  and,  being  prepared  to  receive  them,  will  be 
disappointed  if  they  stay  away.  Any  one,  except  a very  intimate 
friend,  is  guilty,  however  unwittingly,  of  impertinence  in  present- 
ing himself  at  any  other  season,  unless  by  especial  permission. 
People  who  have  never  taken  the  pains  to  think  twice  of  this  view 
of  the  subject,  have  a wa}^  of  saying,  “ Let  me  call  some  time  when 
I can  see  more  of  you — have  you  all  to  myself ; I hate  reception 
days.”  One  must  be  very  sure  of  his  own  attractions  who  thus 
proposes,  uninvited,  to  absorb  the  entire  attention,  for  even  an  hour, 
of  an  always  busy  and  useful  mistress  of  a family.  If  she,  with 
fullest  knowledge  of  her  occupations  and  desires,  chooses  to  appoint 
the  season  for  receiving  the  outer  world,  her  wishes  will  be  respected 
by  well-bred  acquaintances.  It  argues  presumption  and  fatuous 
self-conceit  for  one  to  assume  that  he  can  never  be  unwelcome. 

The  opposite  extreme  of  treating  a guest  with  too  little  ceremony, 
is  to  burden  him  with  attention.  Some  kindly  folk  would  seem  to 
imagine  that  their  friends  part  with  individuality  as  soon  as 
the  shadow  of  the  hospitable  roof  envelops  them.  The  determina- 


VISITED. 


139 


tion  to  amuse,  to  feed,  to  fill  them,  body  and  mind,  with  entertain- 
ment during  every  hour  of  their  sojourn  is  obvious  at  every  turn. 
To  insist  that  he  whom  you  delight  to  honor  shall  eat  twice  as 
much  as  he  wants,  and  does  not  know  what  he  prefers  to  take  on 
his  plate ; should  see  things  he  cares  nothing  for ; drive  when  he 
would  rather  walk ; sail,  when  he  abhors  aquatic  sports  from  the 
depths  of  an  agonized  stomach  ; that  he  shall  be  diverted  when  he 
longs  to  be  alone  with  his  own  thoughts  for  one  precious  hour  of 
the  fourteen  that  make  up  his  waking  day — is  benevolent  torture. 

Study  your  friend’s  likes  and  proclivities,  addressing  your 
ingenuity  to  the  attempt  to  make  him  happy  in  his  own  way, 
instead  of  forcing  him  to  feign  satisfaction  with  yours.  It  is  quite 
as  possible  to  bore  him  by  giving  him  a surfeit  of  your  society  as 
by  allowing  him  to  seek  amusement  in  reading,  or  a solitary  ramble 
in  the  direction  chosen  by  himself.  If  he  comes  to  you  tired,  let 
him  rest.  Should  he  be  loquacious,  listen  while  he  has  his  say.  So 
far  from  considering  you  stupid  because  you  sit  by,  attentive  and 
mute,  while  he  turns  his  heart  and  brain  inside  out,  he  will  be  likely 
to  commend  you  as  the  prince  of  conversationalists.  The  definition 
of  a bore,  “ One  who  talks  so  much  of  himsoli  that  he  gives  you  no 
chance  to  talk  of  j/<^>^^self,”  is  one  of  the  best  things  that  has  been 
said  in  this  century.  See  to  it  that  you  are  the  bored,  rather  than 
the  bore,  when  the  relations  are  those  of  host  and  visitor. 

It  is  so  impolite  to  discuss  persons  and  topics  in  the  presence  of 
those  to  whom  these  are  unfamiliar,  that  one  marvels  to  hear  it 
done  every  day  by  people  who  should  know  so  much  better.  If  the 
name  of  a stranger,  or  reference  to  an  incident  or  an  event  of  which 
your  guest  is  ignorant,  be  introduced  in  the  course  of  conversation, 
address  a word  of  apology  or  explanation  to  him,  and  speedily  turn 
the  talk  to  what  would  interest  him  more. 


140 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


The  ability  to  make  your  home  the  favorite  resort  of  the  people 
you  most  desire  to  attract,  is  a thing  to  be  coveted.  It  is  no  mean 
ambition  to  wish  to  have  the  knack,  talent,  genius, — sometimes  it 
is  all  three, — of  “entertaining”  well.  The  road  to  success  here  is 
short  and  straight ; it  is  forgetfulness  of  self  in  the  intent  and  effort  to 
please  and  interest  those  who  have  come  to  he  pleased  and  interested. 
This  is  what  makes  certain  houses  and  hosts  “ delightful  ” to  all 
classes  and  conditions  of  visitors.  The  want  of  it  may  result  in 
impressing  the  invited  with  your  superiority  to  themselves  in  posi- 
tion, knowlege  or  riches,  but,  as  a rule,  even  toadies  of  an  humble 
mind  and  one’s  most  affectionate  friends  do  not  like  to  be  put  at  a 
disadvantage. 

There  are  sensible  people  in  civilized  communities  who  compre- 
hend that  a woman  who  is  worth  visiting  may  have  stated  work  to 
do  that  cannot  be  entirely  laid  aside  for  weeks,  or  days,  for  the 
delight  of  a favorite  guest’s  companionship.  The  visitor  who 
cannot  see  this  is  an  absorbent  of  the  spongiest  type.  Make  your 
invitations  to  her  as  few  as  is  compatible  with  policy. 

While  giving  your  friends  graciously  of  your  best,  avoid  the 
appearance  of  “ putting  yourself  out  ” to  accomplish  this  end.  Let 
the  flow  of  hospitality  be  that  of  the  mountain  spring,  not  the 
forcing  pump.  “ The  first  course  was  roasted  hostess,”  said  a 
wicked  satirist'  of  a dinner  party.  Your  guests  will  not  easily 
forgive  themselves  if  they  remark  so  entire  a change  in  your  every- 
day manner  of  living  as  argues  an  extraordinary  press  and  strain 
upon  yourself  and  helpers.  However  skillful  may  be  your  endeavor 
to  “ bring  up  the  style  ” of  your  establishment  to  the  level  of  one 
which  has  an  underpinning  of  five  times  your  income,  you  cannot 
achieve  a counterfeit  that  will  deceive  others.  Strike  the  true  key 
in  the  beginning,  and  do  not  change  it.  yourself ^ and  keep  what 

belongs  to,  and  is  of  you,  in  just  harmony.  Bear  in  mind  that 


VISITED. 


141 

Recreation,  Repose,  Refreshment,  are  the  Blessed  three  that  should 
attend  upon  the  stranger  or  acquaintance  within  your  gates.  The 
hospitality  that  comes  short  of  this  is  a misnomer. 


Visitor. 


CEXICOGRAPHERS  put  down  as  obsolete — “ Hospitate ; to 
be  the  recipient  of  liospitality.” 

They  may  be  right  in  assuming  that  we  do  not  need  the 
word.  We  surely  want  something  to  express  the  active- 
passive  receptive  condition  of  the  benefits  and  graces  of  hospitality. 
The  term  itself  has  been  so  far  estranged  from  the  root,  hospes^  a 
guest,  as  to  relieve  the  said  recipient  of  all  responsibility,  and  to 
double  the  burdens  of  the  host.  As  the  relations  of  the  two  are 
popularly  regarded,  the  visitor  is  not  even  the  crust  of  the  loaf, 
binding  it  into  form  and  comeliness,  yet  part  and  parcel  of  the 
generous  whole.  He  is  more  like  the  tasteless  shell  from  which  we 
sip  Roman  punch  and  ices — taking  nothing  from,  and  giving 
nothing  to  what  it  holds.  It  is  a common  saying  that  few  people 
know  how  to  entertain.  Coronachs  are  chanted  over  the  tender 
graces  of  the  dead  virtue  of  hospitality ; tomes  written  upon  the 
possibilities  of  resuscitation.  A sure  evidence  of  the  vitality  of  the 
principle  in  the  human  mind  and  heart  is  offered  in  the  truth  that 
few  sighs  and  little  ink  are  expended  in  recrimination.  Yet  the 
children  in  the  market-place  complained — We  have  piped  into  you, 
and  ye  have  not  danced.” 

If  we  would  have  successful  hosts,  we  must  have  guests  who 
appreciate,  and  do  their  duty  as  seconds  to  the  principals  in  the 


VISITOR. 


143 


duet.  Hospitality  as  a pas  seul  must  always  be  a failure.  It  comes 
to  pass,  by  the  curious  reversal  of  positions  we  deprecate,  that  a 
bidden  guest  often  accepts  an  invitation  with  the  mien  of  one  who 
grants  a boon.  If  the  hospitable  request  be  made  verbally,  he  hesi- 
tates, demurs,  “ is  not  quite  sure  that  he  can  manage  it,”  and  having 
thus  deprived  the  act  of  the  little  graciousness  it  might  possess 
when  the  question  is  of  the  receipt,  not  the  bestowal  of  a favor, 
finally  agrees  to  “ come  if  he  can.” 

You,  if  the  host,  or  hostess  of  the  patronizing  visitor,  know  from 
this  beginning,  what  will  be  his  deportment  while  he  remains  under 
your  roof-tree,  eats  and  drinks  of  your  best,  and  suffers  you  to 
amuse  him.  He  is  your  master  and  critic  ; if  he  be  amiable,  your 
defence  against  yourself  in  judgment  of  deficiencies  that  might 
incommode  His  Royal  Littleness.  I have  had  such  an  one  apolo- 
gize for  my  apple-sauce,  and  condone  my  coffee,  when  I had  not 
hinted  at  a fault  in  either.  Aware  though  you  may  be,  that  he  is 
your  inferior  in  everything,  including  politeness,  duty  compels  you 
to  submit  to  his  condescension,  to  let  pass,  unchallenged,  arrogance, 
boorishness,  real  insolence,  while  he  is  sheltered  by  the  aegis  of 
Guesthood. 

The  reason  for  this  is  plain.  The  number  of  well-bred  people 
in  every  community  is  in  humiliating  disproportion  to  that  of  the 
under-bred.  Yon  have  ministered  to  the  vanity  of  a small-souled 
or  ignorant  being,  who,  by  an  odd  system  of  inflation  known  to  his 
kind,  is  lifted  by  the  honor  done  him  above  those  from  whom  it 
came. 

“ Really,  now,”  said  the  ingeniously-stupid  scion  of  a wealthy 
house  to  a lady  who  invited  him  to  a party,  “ I have  been  out  late 
so  many  nights  lately  that  I am  awfully  tired,  you  know.  Can’t  you 
let  me  off  this  once  ? ” 


144 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


“ With  pleasure,  now  and  always,’^  was  the  amused  rejoinder. 

The  man  whose  heart,  or  head,  or  both,  do  not  tell  him  that 
your  desire  to  see  him  within  your  doors,  and  not  his  consent  to  be 
there,  is  the  compliment  paid  by  one  person  to  another,  can  never 
hospitate  ’’  with  you  in  the  subtler  sense  of  the  obsolete  verb.  It 
carries  with  it  an  implication  of  reciprocity  which  fine  spirits 
invariably  recognize. 

Receive,  as  a visitor  elect,  the  proposition  of  your  acquaintance 
that  you  shall  come  to  his  home,  for  what  it  is — an  act  of  good-will, 
and  flattery  of  the  most  delicate  kind.  So  far  from  presuming  upon 
it,  you  should  strive  to  justify  his  good  opinion  of  you  by  modest, 
genial  behavior  that  will  be  a tacit  acknowledgment  of  obligation. 
Make  him  proud,  not  ashamed  of  his  friend.  The  truest  breeding 
is  that  which  teaches  the  sojourner  for  an  hour,  a day,  or  month, 
beneath  another’s  roof,  to  fit  cozily  into  the  family  groove.  Life 
should  run  more  smoothly  for  the  household  because  you  are  with 
them,  whereas,  in  too  many  instances,  the  train  is  shunted  jarringly 
upon  another  track,  and  nothing  seems  home-like  until  the  disturb- 
ing influence  is  withdrawn. 

One  of  the  best  men  I ever  knew,  a gentle-hearted,  large-souled 
Christian  scholar,  contrived  to  make  himself  so  obnoxious  as  a 
visitor  in  other  men’s  houses,  that  a hint  of  his  coming  threw  hosts, 
servants  and  children  into  a panic.  He  would  have  stepped  aside 
into  a puddle  to  spare  the  life  of  an  angle-worm,  but  his  mild  request 
that  a cup  of  strong,  freshly-made  coffee  might  be  sent  to  his  bed- 
room at  six  o’clock  every  morning,  obliged  mistress  or  cook  to  rise 
in  the  raw  winter  dawn  to  prepare  it.  At  breakfast,  he  took  (or  was 
miserable)  a special  brand  of  chocolate,  which  was  not  procurable 
in  country  places ; he  could  eat  no  bread  or  muffins  that  were  com- 
pounded with  eggs,  and  never  touched  pork,  veal  or  fish.  Dinner, 
dunng  his  stay,  was  served  by  request  at  five,  instead  of  at  six,  the 


riNICAL  VISITOR. 


VISITOR. 


147 


usual  hour.  A bottle  of  Rhine  wine  was  set  at  his  plate  ; certain  vege- 
tables were  indispensable  to  his  comfort,  and  others  so  disagreeable  to 
sight  and  smell  that  they  were  tabooed  entirely.  A lunch  of  sponge- 
cake (home-made)  and  brandied  fruit  furnished  a night-cap,  without 
which  sleep  was  impossible.  The  bedstead  was  turned  so  that  the 
earliest  morning  rays  might  not  strike  upon  his  eyes,  and  was, 
furthermore,  propped  on  two  hassocks  into  an  inclined  plane,  to 
encourage  the  flow  of  blood  toward  the  extremities. 

An  excellent  divine,  portly  and  rubicund,  carries  his  daily 
health-bread  in  his  valise  wherever  he  goes.  On  one  occasion,  it 
was  left  accidentally  on  the  sideboard,  and  sliced  by  an  innocent  ser- 
vant for  general  use  at  supper  time.  The  owner  identified  it  at  a 
glance,  and  with  great  presence  of  mind,  called  the  host’s  attention 
to  the  blunder.  With  the  mien  of  an  injured  saint,  he  eyed  in 
speechless  emotion  the  servant  who  collected  the  desecrated  frag- 
ments in  a plate,  and  set  it  beside  him.  He  next  inquired  what  kind 
of  tea  was  on  the  tray,  and,  on  being  told,  shook  his  head  mournfully, 
and  supped  on  bread  and  water. 

You  perceive.  Madam,”  he  moralized,  when  the  uncomfortable 
party  arose  from  their  chairs,  “ If  I had  not  brought  my  bread,  I 
must  have  starved!*'' 

Both  of  these  men  were,  to  all  appearance,  in  robust  health. 
Both  should  have  remained  at  home,  or,  if  compelled  to  go  from 
place  to  place,  should  have  taken  themselves  and  load  of  idiosyncra- 
cies  to  a hotel,  where  they  could  pay  in  dollars  and  cents  for  the 
luxury  of  pancreatic  caprice. 

Dyspeptics  must  live  ? Resisting  the  temptation  to  plagiarize 
Talleyrand’s  reply  to  the  lampooner  who  offered  the  same  plea — 

ne  vois  pas  la  necessite  ” — let  me  urge  the  broader  principle  of 
greatest  good  to  the  greatest  number.  If  there  is  nothing  fit  for  you, 
as  an  invalid,  to  eat  on  your  host’s  menu^  take  the  alternative  of 


148 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


bodily  suffering,  rather  than  wound  the  kind  hearts  of  the  caterers. 
If  not  prepared  to  do  this,  yon  are  physically  unfit  to  “ hospitate  ’’ 
comfortably  with  your  best  friends. 

Doubly  unfit,  in  spirit  and  breeding,  is  he  who,  without  the 
excuse  of  ill-health,  thinks  to  add  to  his  personal  consequence  by 
display  of  disfavor  of  what  is  set  before  him.  Leave  regimen 
behind  yon  when  yon  cross  the  threshold  of  your  neighbor’s  house. 
The  parade  of  your  individual  appetites  disgusts  others  in  propor- 
tion as  it  interests  yourself.  Yon  need  not  drink  coffee  if  yon 
prefer  tea,  of  which  there  is  none  on  the  table.  Water  is  a fashionable 
beverage,  and  may  be  chosen  without  expatiation  on  the  biliary 
derangement  or  nervous  disorder  that  makes  it  imprudent  for  yon 
“ to  touch  coffee  or  chocolate.”  ' It  is  never  pardonable  to  say  that 
yon  do  not  like  anything  offered  to  yon.  You  might  as  well  inform 
the  disconcerted  hostess  that  her  effort  to  provide  for  your  comfort 
and  enjoyment  is  a bungling  mistake.  As  a safe  rule  of  general 
application,  the  less  yon  say  as  to  the  inner  works  of  your  bodily 
structure,  the  better. 

Mungo  Park  had  taken  a bite  of  a greasy-looking  cake  of  whitish 
paste  dotted  with  black,  tendered  him  by  an  African  woman  of 
whom  he  had  begged  a night’s  lodging,  when,  drawing  near  to  the 
light,  he  saw  that  the  specks  were  large  ants, 

“ In  great  disgust,  I was  on  the  point  of  throwing  it  away,”  he 
says.  ‘‘  But,  reflecting  that  to  do  this  would  give  pain  to  my  kind 
hostess  who  had  set  before  me  the  best  of  her  store,  I refrained,  and 
ate  it,  instead.” 

I have  sat  at  Christian  men’s  feasts  with  millionaires  and 
savants,  who  might  have  taken  a lesson  in  genuine  refinement 
from  the  ragged  traveler  in  the  Kaffir  kraal. 

In  the  matter  of  hours  for  meals,  for  rising  and  retiring, 
conform,  without  hesitation  or  comment,  to  those  of  the  hospitable 


VISITOR. 


houseliold.  It  is  underbred  and  selfish  to  keep  breakfast  waiting, 
because  yon  have  overslept  yourself,  or  dinner  and  tea,  while  yon 
have  prolonged  a drive  or  a walk  unseasonably.  If  a meal  is  well 
cooked,  it  is  injured  by  standing  beyond  the  proper  time  of  serving, 
and  if  your  host’s  time  is  worth  anything,  yon  are  dishonest  when 
you  waste  it. 

It  is  quite  as  selfish  in  want  of  tactful  regard  for  other’s  feelings, 
if  less  glaringly  inconvenient,  to  present  yourself  below-stairs  long 
before  the  stated  breakfast  hour.  Yon  may  not  like  to  sit  in  your 
bed-chamber ; the  parlors  may  be  in  perfect  order  for  your 
occupancy,  or  the  library  tempt  yon  to  snatch  a quiet  hour  for 
reading,  but  she  is  an  exceptionally  even-tempered  hostess  who 
does  not  flush  uneasily  at  finding  that  yon  came  down  by  the  time 
the  servants  opened  the  house,  and  have  made  yourself  at  home 
in  the  living-rooms  ever  since.  The  inference  is  that  your  sleeping- 
room  was  uncomfortable,  or  that  she  is  indolently  unmindful  of 
your  breakfastless  state. 

I have  an  anguished  recollection  of  a long  visit  paid  to  my 
family  by  an  accomplished  gentleman  whose  every  intention  was 
purely  humane,  yet  who  descended  to  the  parlor  each  morning  at 
an  hour  so  barbarously  early  that  he  had  to  light  the  gas  to  see  the 
piano-keys,  on  which  he  strummed  until  breakfast  was  ready. 
There  is  a savage  consolation  in  the  knowledge  that,  if  he  is  distin- 
guishing himself  in  the  heavenly  mansions  as  a player  upon  instru- 
ments, there  is  no  mother  with  a teething  baby  and  a headache,  in 
the  room  overhead. 

The  habits  of  your  entertainers  and  such  incidents  of  your 
visits  as  are  less  agreeable  than  you  could  desire  or  might  expect, 
ought  to  be  sacred  from  criticism  while  you  are  with  them,  and 
afterward.  You  are  visitor,  not  monitor.  Your  mission  is  to 
please,  not  to  reform  abuses.  Gossip  founded  on  the  report  of ‘‘  one 


J52 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


who  ought  to  know,  having  been  a guest  of  the  family  for  weeks  at 
a time,”  is  so  far  beneath  contempt  that  I may  well  be  ashamed  to 
name  it  as  a possible  outrage  upon  hospitality.  Be  explicit  and 
courteous  in  answering  invitations,  whether  you  accept  or  decline. 
State  at  what  time  you  will  make  your  appearauce  at  your  friend’s 
house,  and  how  long  you  will  stay.  If  prevented  by  unforeseen 
occurrences  from  fulfilling  an  engagement,  send  off  your  excuses 
and  regrets  instantly,  that  the  failure  may  be  nothing  more  than  a 
disappointment.  It  is  actual  unkindness  to  suffer  useless  pre- 
parations to  be  made  for  receiving  you  and  administering  to  your 
welfare.  If  your  hostess-expectant  knows  your  tastes,  and  endeav- 
ors to  gratify  them,  there  will  be  an  individualit}^  in  her  arrange- 
ments that  would  suit  no  substituted  guest  so  well  as  the  one  for 
whom  they  were  primarily  intended. 

As  a final  suggestion,  accept  the  caution  not  to  over-praise  the 
appointments  of  the  establishment  that  widens  doors  and  hearts  to 
take  you  in.  If  your  own  home  is  grander,  your  means  of  enter- 
tainment in  excess  of  your  host’s,  the  laudation  smacks  too  strongly 
of  patronage  to  agree  with  sensitive  spirits.  If  your  house  be  a 
cottage  by  comparison  with  your  frend’s  mansion,  the  anxiety  to 
admire  all  that  pertains  to  the  latter  has  a savor  of  sycophancy. 
Adapt  yourself  naturally,  without  question  or  comment,  to  the 
temporary  socket  in  which  you  are  placed. 

Do  not — I entreat  you  by  the  memory  of  personal  experiences 
that  galled  at  the  time  like  an  ill-fitting  shoe,  and  stung  like  sand- 
burrs — exert  yourself  to  be  agreeable.  The  perfection  of  breeding 
is  to  make  your  entertainers  believe  that  the  illumination  you  bring 
into  their  home  is  the  reflection  of  the  light  shed  by  their  own 
successful  hospitality. 


With  Our  Girls. 

Shis  sentence  lies  uppermost  in  an  open  letter  upon  my  table : 

“ Our  daughter  is  in  her  eighteenth  year.  She  has 
been  delicate  until  within  a few  months,  but  seems  at 
present  quite  strong.  Her  ill-health  has  interfered  sei^ sly 
with  her  studies.  Of  course,  at  her  age,  it  is  impossible  to  se^ 
her  to  school.  Her  manifest  destiny  is  to  marry  early,  and  make 
some  man  a capital  wife  and  housekeeper.” 

A petted,  sickly,  ignorant  child,  who  has  not  resolution  enough 
at  seventeen,  to  repair  defects  in  her  scholastic  training — good  for 
nothing  but  marriage  ! This  is  the  translation  of  the  above. 

“ Heaven  help  the  men,  to-night ! ” says  Lady  Betty,  smirking 
at  her  image  in  the  mirror,  bedight  for  the  evening  foray. 

I take  up  the  words  solemnly  and  sadly.  Heaven  help  the  men 
and  the  nation,  when  of  such  material,  and  of  stuff  even  more  flimsy, 
are  to  be  made  the  wives  of  the  rising  race— the  mothers  of  the 
next  generation ! 

The  proposition  that  she  who  is  best  able  to  live  alone,  to  con- 
trol herself  and  mold  circumstances  to  work  together  for  her  good, 
is  also — other  things  being  equal — best  fitted  for  happy,  beneficent 
wifehood,  appears  simple  enough  to  be  grasped  by  the  average 
intellect.  It  is  my  conviction,  founded  upon  years  of  critical 
observation,  that  she  who  thinks  of  love  as  the  business  of  girl-life, 


154 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


and  of  marriage  as  its  aim  and  end ; whose  intercourse  with  the 
other  sex  is  colored  by  these  views  and  expectations,  is  the  last 
woman  any  rational  man  should  wed.  I j oin  to  this  the  belief  that  the 
prevalence  of  this  habit  of  thought  and  purpose  debases  the  standard 
of  both  womanhood  and  mauhood  in  our  country.  From  honest 
intolerance  with  it  are  born  the  eccentricities  in  the  language  and 
conduct  of  many  pure,  noble  womeu  stigmatized  as  “ strong-minded,” 
for  the  lack  of  more  apt  classification. 

I am  aweer,  my  dear  boy,”  says  Magwitch  to  Pip,  in  “ Great 
Expectations,”  “ that  on  that  occasion  I was  low  ! ” 

The  coarse  triumph  of  a vulgar  nature  merited  the  epithet  less 
decidedly  than  does  the  attitude  our  girls  and  boys,  our  young  men 
and  young  women,  occupy  with  respect  to  one  another.  Every 
sportsman  knows  that  overmuch  and  untimely  hunting  makes  game 
shy  and  wild.  Who  wants  to  make  game  of  them  ! ” says  Our 
Girl  with  spirit.  “ Look  now  at  me— -personally  and  individually — 
myself!  I am  not  a husband-hunter ; I do  not  care  to  get  married 
for  ages  ! But  I do  like  to  converse  with  sensible  men,  and  to  have 
a good  time  with  the  boys.  It  may  sound  frivolous,  but  I relish 
innocent  fun  and  frolics.  Sleighing  and  lawn-tennis,  and  boating- 
parties,  and  the  like.  If  I smile  twice  at  the  same  man,  he  thinks  I 
want  to  ‘ catch  ’ him  ! The  code  of  the  parlor  is  no  higher  in  this 
respect  than  that  of  the  kitchen.  Bridget  does  not  ^ belave  in 
followers  without  they  mane  business.’  ” 

Accepting  this  very  personal  “ Myself”  as  the  mouthpiece  of  a 
class  who  have  a right  to  a hearing,  I say.  First : No  amount  of 
misconception  of  your  motives  alters  the  truth  that  our  social,  as  well 
as  our  domestic  atmosphere  is  what  women  make  it.  And  ifour  best 
women  give  over  the  attempt  to  refine  and  reform  men,  they  will 
become  Turks  aud  Yahoos.  Next:  Respect  yourself — body  and 
spirit.  There  is  untold  might  of  influence  in  the  fearless  purity  of 


WITH  OUR  GIRLS. 


157 


a nature  that,  having  no  affinity  for  evil,  passes  it  unconsciously 
by.  Smile  as  brightly  as  you  please;  enjoy  sensible  talks  and 
harmless  fun,  and  be  as  happy  with  the  boys  as  the  Lord  meant  you 
and  them  to  be  together.  But,  from  first  to  last,  never  forget  that 
your  duty  to  them  and  to  yourself  demands  that  both  shall  be  better 
for  the  association.  If  man’s  work  is  like  that  of  the  more  majestic 
forces  of  nature — tides  and  glaciers  and  stormy  wind  fulfilling 
His  word — yours  is  the  gradual,  but  potent  ministry  of  dews  and 
showers  and  sunlight.  Regard  and  regulate  the  drift  of  little 
things,  the  thistle-down  of  thought  and  action.  Go  to  your  needle 
and  knitting-work  for  lessons  in  the  slow  accretion  of  influence  and 
result ; the  disasters  of  unfastened  threads,  and  stitches  dropped 
and  overlooked.  For  example  : The  man  who  presumes  so  far 
upon  his  privileges  as  a frequent  visitor,  as  to  cross  your  threshold 
with  his  hat  upon  his  head,  or  a cigar  in  his  mouth ; who  lounges 
at  half-length  upon  the  sofa,  or  helps  himself  to  an  easy  chair  when 
the  ladies  present  are  less  luxuriously  seated  ; who  sits,  unmoved,  at 
your  grandmother’s  entrance,  and  sees  you  or  any  other  woman  tug 
at  refractory  blind  or  window,  or  move  a heavy  piece  of  furniture ; 
who  drops,  unauthorized,  the  “ Miss  ” from  your  name ; who  is  fond  of 
holding  and  pressing  your  hand,  or  seizing  you  by  waist  or  arm  in 
what  then  ceases  to  be  innocent  frolic — may  become  a gentleman 
through  your  tactful  discipline.  He  may  now,  possibly,  know  no 
better. 

“ I wish  he  would  not  mean  quite  so  well,  and  do  a little  better ! ” 
said  a young  lady  to  me,  once. 

A highly  respectable  youth,  seeing,  in  the  course  of  a call  upon 
her,  that  his  sock  had  slipped  down,  coolly  laid  his  foot  upon  a 
chair,  pulled  up  his  trouser-leg,  readjusted  the  offending  garment, 
composed  his  pantaloon,  and  put  down  his  foot,  without  intermitting 
his  talk. 


15^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


“ He  is  the  whole  support  of  a widowed  mother,  my  dear,” 
pleaded  I,  faintly.  “ Whatever  his  solecisms  in  demeanor,  he 
always  means  well.”  Upon  which  succeeded  her  plaintive  retort. 

In  truth,  the  marvel  is  that  the  majority  of  our  young  men  are 
so  well  behaved,  when  we  remember  the  herding  of  schools,  colleges, 
stores  and  business  offices,  and  how  few  of  them  remain  under  the 
paternal  roof  after  the  age  of  fourteen.  If  yon  girls  do  not  come 
to  their  help  in  a resolute,  sisterly  spirit,  not  only  in  the  polishing 
of  the  shell,  but  in  the  elevation  of  the  inner  man,  the  race  of 
gentlemen  must  diminish  direfully.  There  are  peculiar  elements  of 
strength  and  protection  on  one  side,  confidingness  on  the  other,  and 
a certain  romantic  fervor  of  attachment  in  the  friendship — pure  and 
simple — between  a man  and  a woman,  that  cannot,  from  the  very 
nature  of  things,  enter  into  the  intimacy  of  one  girl  with  another, 
or  into  the  sturdier  comradeship  of  men.  Human  nature  knows 
none  sweeter  and  more  stanch.  Believing,  as  I do,  in  the  value  and 
happiness  of  such  attachments,  I am  loath  that  the  young  people  I 
love  should  be  denied  the  benefits  of  the  same.  Is  there  no  power 
of  common  sense  and  will  that  can  give  ns,  instead  of  prudery  and 
coyness,  of  suspicion,  coquetry,  manoenvers,  gossip,  heart-burnings, 
unworthy  triumphs,  worn  and  callous  and  bruised  affections — the 
free,  frank  association,  that  meditates  and  distrusts  no  snare- 
intercourse  that  shall  tinseal  springs  of  healing  and  refreshment  to 
us,  as  to  our  brothers  ? 

Believe  me,  dear  girls,  our  Father  has  made  no  grander  creature 
than  an  iipright,  large-souled,  tender-hearted  man.  It  is  hard  to 
get  at  the  knowledge  and  understanding  of  his  real  nature  under 
the  present  constitution  of  society.  Still,  the  genus  is  so  worthy  of 
study  and  esteem,  that  you  do  well  to  strive  by  the  exercise  of  what 
is  best  and  highest  in  yourselves,  to  develop  the  latent  germs  of 
true  manliness  in  even  uulikely  “ boys.”  There  may  be  an 


WITH  OUR  GIRLS. 


159 


imprisoned  angel  in  the  block.  But, — remember,  public  opinion 
condemns  strongly  and  justly,  speculation  for  private  enrichment  on 
the  part  of  missionaries  ! 


s 


\ 


Our  Voices. 


50ME  years  ago  it  was  my  prideful  pleasure  to  chaperone  a 
party  of  American  girls  through  the  exhumed  city  of  Pom- 
peii. The  traveling  group  of  six  comprised  two  Southern 
women,  one  Western,  two  from  the  Middle  States,  and  a 
sixth  from  New  England.  All  were  highly  educated,  refined, 
sprightly,  and  keenly  appreciative  of  the  privileges  of  the  Grand 
Tour.  Five  out  of  the  six  spoke  French,  and  four,  Italian  so  well 
as  to  call  forth  the  commendation  of  our  guide. 

“ It  was  seldom,”  he  went  on  to  say,  “ that  Americans  were 
fluent  in  that  tongue,  although  many  had  sufficient  command  of 
French  to  make  their  way  on  the  Continent.” 

“ How  do  you  know  that  we  are  Americans  ? ” asked  a fine  type 
of  our  best  class  of  girls.  “ Why  not  English  ? ” 

She  had  put  the  same  question  to  a boatman  on  Lake  Como,  and 
received  for  reply  that  “ The  Pmglish  have  red  faces,  the  Americans 
white.” 

The  Pompeiian  guide  was  less  complimentary. 

“ The  English  speak  from  the  chest,”  he  said,  illustrating  his 
meaning  by  driving  his  rich  baritone  into  the  depths  of  his  lungs; 
“ the  Americans,  with  the  nose.” 


i6o 


OUR  VOICES. 


i6i 


Lest  we  miglit  not  catch  his  meaning  he  translated  his  Italian 
into  Roman-French : 

“ Par  le  nez  ! Comprenez-z>ous  ? Comme  da  ? ” 

To  make  sure  of  our  not  losing  the  point,  he  grasped  a swarthy, 
aquiline  member  between  thumb  and  forefinger,  and  reiterated  the 
clause  sonorously.  " 

The  girls  disclaimed  the  imputation  as  indignantly  as  I after- 
ward heard  an  eminent  American  clergyman,  resident  on  the  Con- 
tinent, repel  a criticism  passed  upon  himself  by  an  English  parish^ 
ioner. 

She  told  a friend  of  mine  that  she  would  enjoy  my  sermons 
more  if  I had  not  the  ‘ national  nasal  twang ! ’ — a thing  of  which  I 
was  never  accused  before  ! ” 

It  was,  I think,  Bayard  Taylor,  who  characterized  the  objection- 
able habit  herein  mentioned  as  the  “ national  catarrh.”  Nobody  is 
conscious  of  his  own  sins  in  this  regard. 

One  of  the  most  eloquent  of  Southern  pulpit  orators  once  con- 
vulsed a company  by  asserting,  with  the  full  explosive  might  of  a 
prominent  olfactory  organ,  that  he  “ could  detect  a Yankee  any- 
where, and  in  whatever  disguise.  They  all  speak  through  the  nose, 
a trick  from  which  the  Southerner  is  entirely  free.” 

I shall  never  lose  the  recollection  of  the  luxury  of  hearkening 
to  the  clear,  exquisitely  modulated  voice  of  a celebrated  statesman 
and  scholar,  nor  of  the  shock  which  succeeded  his — “ Allow  me  to 
^introduce  my  young  kinsman  ” — a graduate  of  two  American  and 
one  foreign  university,  whose  provincial  “ twang  ” was  that  of  the 
typical  Down- Easter. 

Evidently,  domestic  association,  the  training  of  the  schools,  and 
transatlantic  travel  are  an  ineffectual  corrective  combination  in 
some  instances. 


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We  are  so  used  to  the  “ national  catarrh  ” that  we  have  ceased 
to  notice  it,  except  in  the  more  exaggerated  forms.  The  most 
serious  side  of  the  question  is  suggested  by  those  who  insist  that 
- — setting  aside  ridicule  and  disclaim — it  is  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence of  the  American  climate.  I have  heard  this  view  of  the 
subject  ably  sustained  in  a convocation  of  New  England 
physicians  ; a prominent  New  York  citizen  assured  me  (through 
his  nose),  “There  is  not  a resident  of  New  York  or  Brooklyn  who 
is  not  a sufferer  from  catarrh  in  some  form.” 

It  may  be  added  that  color  is  lent  to  this  hypothesis  by  the 
lessening  prevalence  of  nasal  speech  as  one  goes  Southward.  It  is 
bad  enough  everywhere  in  these  United  States,  but  the  coast  lands, 
subject  to  freezing  fogs,  and  humid  northern  valleys  between 
mountains  where  the  snow  lies  long,  carry  off  the  evil  palm.  So 
many  and  such  great  blessings  have  come  to  us  with  our  country 
and  climate,  that  we  may  bear  this  adjunct  with  meek  fortitude,  as 
we  strive  to  endure  other  providential  dispensations. 

If,  at  the  same  time,  it  is  possible,  by  the  introduction  of  new 
elocutionary  methods  into  nursery  and  school,  to  lift  the  reproach 
from  us,  the  consideration  of  curative  measures  is  better  worth 
legislative  interference  than  civil  service  and  sanatory  reforms. 

Another  characteristic  of  the  national  manner  of  speech  has,  to 
our  shame  be  it  said,  application  rather  to  the  gentler,  than  the 
ruder  sex.  Illiterate  men  may,  and  do,  as  a rule,  add  loudness  to 
nasality  of  tone.  Plowmen  talk  to  each  other  over  intervening 
furrows  in  strident  monotone.  The  artisan,  whose  invention  of  a 
trunk-rivet  or  faucet-stop  has  set  his  educated  children  in  “ our  best 
society,”  never  modulates — or  thinks  it  expedient  to  attempt  the 
feat — the  harshly  sustained  demi-shout  that  used  to  drown  the 
clatter  of  machinery. 


OUR  VOICES. 


163 

Clergymen,  more  than  any  other  class  of  educated  men,  are  apt, 
in  private  life,  to  raise  their  voices  above  the  subdued  pitch  of  well- 
bred  conversation.  This  is  especially  true  of  popular  preachers. 
The  hortatory  would  seem  to  be  their  natural  and  only  mode  of 
articulate  communication  with  their  kind.  Still,  most  men  who 
were  passably  well  brought  up,  and  fairly  schooled,  and  whose 
social  status  is  good,  do  not  habitually  transgress  the  laws  of  good 
taste  in  the  pitch  and  volume  of  tone.  They  may  shriek  upon  the 
Gold  Exchange,  and  thunder  upon  the  hustings.  At  dinner  and 
evening  parties  they  have  their  lungs  decorously  in  hand. 

Miss  Alcott  touches  the  blemish  with  a firm  hand  in  her  des- 
cription in  “ Little  Women  of  the  Vevay  party,  where  were 
collected,  among  the  guests,  a goodly  number  of  sweet-faced, 
shrill-voiced  Americau  girls.” 

The  American  “ Lear  ” may  emphasize  sorrowfully  the  old 
king’s  praises  of  the  voice  “ that  was  ever  soft  and  low.” 

“ My  girls  keep  my  foot  on  the  soft  pedal  all  the  time,”  said  the 
fond  mother  of  four.  “ Their  spirits  make  them  forgetful  of  the 
laws  of  proportion.” 

Our  girls  behave  better,  in  most  respects,  than  any  others  upon 
the  civilized  globe.  They  are  prettier  than  English  women,  dress 
better  than  French  women,  are  better  read  than  German  women, 
and  out-scream  them  all.  To  a sensitive  ear,  the  jargoning  of 
a women’s  lunch  or  afternoon  tea  is  simply  intolerable.  It  is  not 
only  that  the  example  of  loud  speech  is  contagious,  but  if  one 
would  be  heard,  her  voice  must  be  raised  to  overbear  the  surround- 
ing Babel.  Dumbness  is  the  alternative.  The  round  of  after- 
noon receptions  and  high  teas  during  the  fashionable  season — 
entertainments  where  the  proportion  of  men  is  comparatively 
small — is  excruciating  or  diverting,  as  nerves  are  delicate  or  tough. 


164 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


“The  peacocks’  gala-day!”  muttered  a deep  voice  in  my  ear, 
as  we  entered  the  hall  of  a house  presided  over  by  a charming,  high- 
bred hostess,  and  the  tumult  of  shrieks  and  laughter  bespoke  her 
“ at  home  ” day. 

The  phrase  invariably  returns  to  me  in  similar  scenes.  It  is 
self-evident  that,  if  all  would  moderate,  as  well  as  modulate  their 
tones,  everybody  would  be  heard  as  easily  as  when  all  vociferate ; 
that  if  nobody  laughs  loudly,  the  hum  of  revelry  will  not  be  riotous. 
But,  for  all  of  practical  effect  the  aphorism  exerts,  it  might  as  well 
never  be  known. 

Is  it  because  our  American  girl  “ goes  out  ” so  much,  and  so 
learns  to  adjust  her  voice  to  the  requirements  of  “the  peacocks’ 
gala-days,”  that  she  acquires  the  habit  of  loud,  dissonant  speech  in 
the  domestic  circle,  in  otherwise  quiet  drawing-rooms,  and — least 
pardonable  of  all — in  places  of  public  resort  ? She  spoils  our  enjoy- 
ment, and  makes  us  ashamed  for  her  in  picture-galleries,  by  her 
high,  thin  chatter  of  nothing  in  general  and  herself  in  particular ; 
flirts  audibly  between  opera  acts  and  concert  numbers ; entertains 
the  occupants  of  hotel  parlors  with  full  particulars  of  the  doings  of 
“ our  set,”  and  discusses  the  last  bit  of  gossip  across  the  aisle  of  a 
street-car. 

Chancing,  one  day,  to  get  a table  at  Delmonico’s  near  that  at 
which  sat  a stately  chaperone  and  four  pretty,  elegantly  dressed 
girls,  I learned  more  of  personal  biography  and  family  history  than 
I could  write  down  in  an  hour.  Yet  all  of  the  party  were  evidently 
people  in  fashionable,  and,  presumably,  refined  society.  They  com- 
ported themselves  courteously  toward  each  other,  and  expressed  their 
meaning  in  well-chosen  terms,  but  as  if  they  had  been  separated  by 
half  the  width  of  the  great  room. 

It  may  be  that,  as  I once  heard  a daughter  answer  her  mother’s 
caution  “ not  to  speak  so  loudly  ” in  like  circumstancos,  our  girl  is 


OUR  VOICES. 


165 

“ not  saying  anything  to  be  ashamed  of.”  To  her  honor  be  it  said 
that  she  seldom  does,  in  public  or  private.  Daisy  Miller  was  as 
innocent  as  she  was  indiscreet.  It  is  the  glory  of  the  American 
woman,  and  of  our  land,  that  sinless  liberty  of  speech  and  action  on 
her  part  are  never  challenged  uncharitably.  But  rectitude  of  char- 
acter and  just  taste  should  so  interpenetrate  her  being  as  to  compel 
their  outward  manifestation.  A sensible  thing,  quietly  uttered, 
carries  conviction  as  certainly  as  when  shrilled  jerkily.  A bon  mot 
is  as  brilliant,  distinctly  and  softly  spoken,  as  when  hurled  like  a 
catapult  at  an  interlocutor.  Animation  of  manner  and  vivacity  of 
speech  are  entirely  compatible  with  gentleness. 

In  the  next  chapter  I shall  have  something  to  say  as  to  our 
manner  of  pronouncing  and  putting  our  words  together.  I deal 
now  merely  with  the  quality  and  key  of  the  voice.  Like  a great 
many  other  personal  characteristics,  it  is  largely  a matter  of 
heredity. 

Once  in  a while,  as  one  finds  a strayed  garden  flower  on  a 
common,  we  hear  the  “ soft  and  low  ” voice  among  unmistakably 
vulgar  people.  Not  nearly  so  often,  however,  as  Ve  find  metallic 
ring,  thick  gutturals,  or  a viragoish  edge  in  the  tones  of  an 
educated  woman,  that  betray  the  plebeian  strain  of  her  forbears. 
The  mother’s  intonations  descend  almost  surely  to  her  daughters ; 
the  reed-like  pipings  of  the  son  deepen  into  the  father’s  cadences. 

Home-training,  then,  has  most  to  do  with  this  much-neglected 
branch  of  education. 

The  work  should  begin  long  before  the  child  goes  into  the  paid 
teacher’s  hands.  The  use  of  the  “ soft  pedal  ” and  the  legato 
movement  in  our  home-harmonies  is  neglected  to  our  national  hurt. 
These  are  not  pleasant  things  to  say,  or  to  hear.  Vanity  in  our 
individual  and  social  ways  is  as  deep-seated  in  us  as  patriotic  pride. 
I have  but  one  apology  to  submit  for  plain  talk  which  may  seem 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


1 66 

gratuitously  ungracious — an  excuse  offered  in  the  form  of  a time- 
battered  anecdote. 

John  Sylvester  bantered  Ben  Jonson  to  a rhyming-match,  and 
led  off  with  : 

“ I,  John  Sylvester, 

Kissed  your  sister  ? ** 

Rare  Ben  took  his  turn  thus  : 

“ I,  Ben  Jonson, 

Kissed  your  wife.  ” 

“ That’s  no  rhyme,”  quoth  John. 

‘‘  No  ? ” drawled  Ben.  “ But  it  is  true  I” 


How  We  Speak. 

IT  ought  to  be  as  easy  to  speak  correctly  as  to  wound  our  mother 
tongue. 

wSo  says  Common  Sense. 

It  must  be  easier  to  speak  incorrectly  than  to  pay  decent 
observance  to  the  simplest  rules  of  English  grammar. 

So  says  sad  Experience. 

Aphorism  No.  i is  not  intended  to  apply  to  the  confessedly  and 
altogether  illiterate,  who  go  astray  as  soon  as  they  are  born,  speak- 
ing double  negatives.  When  the  man  who  shovels  in  your  winter^s 
supply  of  coal,  inquires,  “ If  you  haint  got  no  more  jobs  for  him,  jes^ 
now  ? ” you  scarcely  remark  the  form  of  the  query.  Were  it 
couched  in  simpler  and  irreproachable  syntax,  you  would  catch  the 
unexpected  sound,  and  be  surprised  thereby  into  the  conclusion  that 
the  coal-heaver  “ had  seen  better  days.” 

“ Who  is  it  ? ” asked  I of  the  maid  who  brought  me  word  that 
some  one  wished  to  see  me  on  business.” 

“ She  didn’t  give  me  no  name,  mem.  She  is  dressed  plain,  but 
she  speaks  like  a real  lady.” 

The  caller  was  a broken-down  teacher  with  a subscription-paper, 
asking  funds  to  pay  her  entrance  fee  to  the  Home  for  Indigent 
Gentlewomen.  Her  shabby  mourning  and  homely  face  had  not 

167 


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168 

deceived  the  quick-eared  Milesian,  whose  English  was  no  better  and 
no  worse  than  that  of  her  congeners.  She  recognized  “ the  lady  ” 
by  her  tongue. 

I introduced  my  escort,  on  a trip  up  the  North  River,  to  a mag- 
nificent woman,  with  whom  he  found  me  in  converse  on  the  deck. 
The  adjective  is  used  advisedly.  She  was  tall,  portly,  handsome, 
attired  in  perfect  taste,  and  graceful  in  carriage.  Her  address  was 
affable,  her  voice  even  and  well-pitched. 

A fine  looking  woman,”  was  my  companion’s  comment  as  we 
resumed  our  promenade  on  the  deck,  after  ten  minutes’  chat  with 
her.  “ One  of  the  noiiveaux  riches^  I suppose  ? She  carries  off  her 
new  estate  better  than  the  majority  of  the  guild.  But  she  couldn’t 
help  telling  me  that  she  ^ never  see  no  finer  scenery  abroad  than 
that  on  the  Hudson  River.  ’ ” 

Let  these  examples  illustrate  the  fact,  that  with  the  uneducated 
masses,  incorrect  language  is  the  rule,  and  the  accord  of  the  several 
parts  of  speech  with  one  another,  exceptional.  The  marvel  to  the 
thoughtful  observer  is — this  truth  being  incontrovertible — that  the- 
would-be-elegant-because-rich  take  so  little  pains  to  acquire  the 
shibboleth,  without  which  they  must  fight  their  way  into  the  desired 
land  of  social  equality  with  those  they  envy  and  emulate. 

It  is  a curious  study — this  persistent  mangling  of  our  vernacular. 
Why  the  maid  who  copies  her  mistress’  costume,  and  catches  her 
very  trick  of  tone  and  carriage  so  successfully  as  to  remind  the 
beholders  of  the  years  “ she  has  lived  in  the  one  place who  hears 
the  English  tongue  properly  used  by  everybody  in  the  house  except 
her  one  fellow-servant,  the  cook,  with  whom  she  is  not  on  friendly 
terms — should  at  the  end  of  ten  years,  compound  negatives  and 
confuse  tenses  is  more  than  a puzzle.  It  is  a mystery. 

A stranger  contrariety  of  cause  and  effect  is  that  the  self-made 
man  who  began  his  own  creation  at  thirteen,  worked  his  way  up  as 


HOW  WE  SPEAK. 


169 


errand-boy,  porter,  sbipping-clerk,  salesman  and  partner,  to  a place 
among  merchant-princes  and  a seat  in  congress,  should  never,  with 
all  his  getting,  get  understanding  of  the  practical  bearings  of  such 
rules  as  ‘‘  The  verb  must  agree  with  its  nominative  case  in  number 
and  person.”  He  more  frequently  learns  to  speak  a foreign 
language  grammatically  than  to  amend  his  management  of  his  own. 
Quick  of  apprehension  and  adaption  to  circumstances  in  the  matter 
of  costume  and  household  ceremonies,  his  untamable  tongue  con- 
firms shrewd  St.  James  in  every  sentence.  Time  and  observation 
make  him  a connoisseur  in  wines,  but  in  modest  appreciation  of  the 
accomplishment,  he  tells  you  confidentially, — ‘‘  There  ain’t  no 
manner  of  use  in  a man  pretendin’  to  be  a connoishure  without  he 
has  had  experience.” 

He  is  probably  fond  of  polysyllables,  selecting  them  as  his  wife 
buys  her  diamonds — for  their  size.  He  generally  employs  them 
intelligently,  too,  accounting  each  as  a “ big  thing,”  concerning 
which  it  behooves  him  to  be  circumspect.  The  effect  of  the  phrases 
containing  the  ponderous  prizes  is  as  if  his  wife’s  diamonds  had 
been  set  at  a blacksmith’s. 

The  strangest  of  all  the  curious  circumstances  attendant  upon 
the  habitual  disregard  of  grammatical  laws  is  the  unconsciousness 
of  the  offender.  Our  self-made  man  and  the  wife  he  has  tinkered 
into  “ a match-article,”  court,  as  ornaments  to  their  drawing-room, 
eminent  scholars  and  literary  lights,  domestic  and  foreign ; admire 
intensely  in  them  the  facile  propriety  of  expression  in  which  they 
are  themselves  deficient,  and  never  suspect  the  effect  of  the  contrast 
they  offer.  Does  the  inability  to  discern  the  difference  lie  in  the 
ear,  or  the  intellect  ? 

I have  called  this  insensibility  the  most  singular  of  the  paradoxes 
connected  with  our  subject.  May  I retract  the  statement,  and 
substitute  the  anomaly  of  p^ple,  born  well  and  bred  well,  educated 


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according  to  the  most  approved  methods,  and  moving  in  refined 
social  circles,  whose  foibles  of  speech  approach  in  number,  and  rival 
in  heinousness  the  direct  lingual  faults  of  illiteracy  ? 

People  who  drop  the  final  g from  participles,  and  other  words 
ending  in  “ with  the  constancy  the  cockney  exhibits  in 

misplacing  h. 

People  who  say  “ He  donH  like  it,”  without  a suspicion  that  the 
conjoined  abbreviation  stands  for  “ Pie  do  7iot  like  it.” 

People  who  inquire,  “You  ready?”  “You  going?”  and, 
sometimes,  “ Where  yon  been  ? ” 

People  who  never,  by  any  chance,  say  “ Between  you  and  me,” 
but,  with  the  steadfastness  of  a holy  purpose,  “ Between  you  and 
//” 

People  who  pride  themselves  upon  the  elegant  accuracy  of  every 
sentence  formed  by  their  lips,  and  tell  you  in  cultivated  euphonious- 
ness of  accent,  “ I have  traveled  some  in  England,  Russia,  Turkey, 
or  Australia,”  and,  “ I have  not  coughed  ayiy  all  night.” 

People  who  have  been  on  intimate  terms  with  Lindley  Murray 
and  his  colleagues  for  forty  years,  and  not  learned  that  ainH  is  not 
tolerated  by  any  of  them,  being  an  un-parseable  word. 

People  who  consider  the  fact  that  they  were  born  south  of  Mason 
and  Dixon’s  line  warrant  for  ignoring  the  dictum — “ After  the  words 
like  and  unlike^  the  preposition  to  or  unto  is  understood,”  and  cru- 
cify our  ears  by  telling  us  on  all  possible  occasions,  “ I feel  like  I 
should  do  ” so-and-so,  and  “ He  looked  like  he  meant  it.”  Who  as 
musically  and  audaciously  say,  “ I am  a heap  better,”  or  “ a heap 
worse,” 

I heard  a D.  D.,  F.  F.  V.,  say  in  a sermon,  “ It  does  seem  like 
the  Lord  has  some  great  and  gracious  purpose  to  fulfill,”  etc. 
And  a few  minutes  thereafter — “ I expect  that  this  is  the  proper 
interpretation  of  this  passage.” 


HOW  WE  SPEAK. 


171 


There  are  people,  on  the  other  hand,  who,  born  and  brought  up 
in  the  shadow  of  Yale,  roll  the  phrase — “ I want  that  you  should,” 
like  a savory  and  insoluble  morsel  under  their  tongues,  and  not  a 
few,  who,  as  Mr.  Howells^  Minister  Sewell  regrets,  will — albeit  they 
are  Harvard  graduates — say,  to  the  close  of  well-spent  lives,‘‘  I don’t 
know 

People — this  final  count  is  written  with  groanings  unutterable 
— who,  with  the  best  intentions  conceivable  (benevolent  and  syn- 
taxical),  never  let  slip  an  opportunity  of  using  the  pronoun 
when  the  antecedent  noun  is  in  the  singular  number.  “ If  a 
person  thinks  they  can  do  that.”  “ If  anybody  has  lost  anything, 
they  can  apply  at  the  desk.”  “ I was  talking  with  some  one  the 
other  day,  and  they  said,”  etc.,  etc. 

None  of  the  phrases  cited  as  foibles  of  speech  trench  upon  the 
debatable  ground  of  language.  One  and  all,  they  are  glaring 
defects,  flaws  in  gems,  which  lessen  their  value  irretrievably.  The 
critical  inspector  instantly  discounts  the  intelligence  or  conscien- 
tiousness of  him  who  tenders  them. 

That  those  who  are  guilty  of  lapses  of  this  sort  know  better, 
does  not  exculpate  them,  or  relieve  the  listener  who  respects  his 
noble  vernacular  too  truly  to  condone  the  unseemly  familiarities 
that  approximate  insult.  When  the  delinquents  are  those  who 
assume  to  instruct  others,  the  foible  becomes  guilt. 

A distinguished  author,  at  a reception  given  in  honor  of  her 
visit  to  a certain  town,  pressed  the  hand  of  a sister-writer  who  was 
introduced  to  her,  with  the  cordial — You  and  I had  ought  to  have 
met  before.” 

An  eminent  lecturer  upon  scientific  subjects  remarked  at  a 
dinner-party,  “ The  hall  was  not  sufficiently  het  to-day.” 

The  principal  of  a collegiate  institute  announced,  during  the 
commencement  exercises,  that  the  presentation  to  himself  of  a 


172 


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memorial  from  tlie  pupils  was  a “ change  in  the  programme  made 
entirely  mibeknownst  to  himself.’’ 

He  was  taken  by  surprise  by  the  testimonial,  and  the  luckless 
phrase  escaped  him  while  off  his  guard.  It  should  have  been 
impossible  for  him  to  make  use  of  it  in  any  circumstances.  If  he 
had  never  said  it  before,  he  would  not  have  said  it  then. 

It  is  impossible  to  speak  too  well.  Upon  each  of  us  rests  the 
obligation  to  redeem  his  daily  conversation  from  slovenliness. 
Ease  and  purity  of  diction  are  not,  of  necessity,  pedantic.  One 
may  speak  with  unfailing  correctness,  yet  not  mount  verbal  stilts. 

We  owe  it  to  ourselves,  to  our  associates,  and  to  the  cause  of 
letters,  to  set,  in  honest  severity,  a watch  before  the  door  of  our 
lips. 


The  Candy  Curse. 

^^\ROSSING  the  East  River  one  day,  I found  myself  next  to 
the  young  mother  of  a baby.  It  was  a large-eyed,  pale- 
faced  baby,  prettily  dressed,  and  held  in  a claw-like  hand  a 
stick  of  peppermint  candy.  The  mother  pinned  her  own 
embroidered  handkerchief  about  the  little  one’s  neck  to  catch  the 
pinkish  drops  from  the  moistened  confection. 

“ How  old  is  she  ? ” asked  I,  with  the  free-masonic  faith  that 
my  interest  would  be  appreciated,  which  appertains  to  motherhood 
the  world  over. 

‘‘Six  months,”  returned  the  proud  parent,  who  evidently 
belonged  to  the  second-rate  middle  class  of  American  matrons. 

“ Is  she  healthy  ? ” 

“Well,  not  very.  She  suffers  dreadfully  with  colic,  but  that 
doesn’t  mean  anything.  She’ll  come  ’round  all  right  in  time.” 

This  particular  specimen  of  babyhood  entered  upon  a career  of 
vice  a trifle  earlier  than  common  even  for  a United  States  infant  of 
the  gentler  sex.  I hazard  nothing,  however,  in  asserting  that 
seventy  out  of  every  hundred  babies  born  in  our  favored  land  know 
the  taste  and  consequent  pangs  of  the  accursed  thing  by  the  time 
they  are  eighteen  months  old.  Perhaps  fifty  in  the  hundred  are 
allowed,  as  yearlings,  to  suck  the  “ harmless  ” gum-drop  and  try 
their  tender  teeth  upon  the  striped  lollypop. 


174 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


A zealous  temperance  crusader  ran  a tilt,  not  long  ago,  against 
brandy-drops  and  rummy-hearted  caramels,  declaring,  truthfully 
enough,  that  they  would  implant  in  the  juvenile  consumers  of  the 
syrupy  bon-bons  a taste  for  ardent  spirits.  The  mother  who  keeps 
her  bantling  “ good,”  while  she  talks  or  works,  by  relays  of  candy, 
more  surely  creates  a craving  which  can  bring  no  benefit  and  may 
work  infinite  evil. 

The  boy  usually  outgrows  the  inordinate  appetite  for  confec- 
tionery, or  indulges  it  in  moderation  and  privately.  It  is  a girl’s 
trick,  and  a woman’s  vice. 

Dr.  Grace  Peckham  tells  us  in  a paper  on  “ The  Family  Sweet 
Tooth,”  that  each  member  of  every  household  in  the  United  States 
consumes  annually  forty  pounds  of  sugar.  She  subjoins,  apropos 
to  lavish  consumption  of  the  useful  saccharine — “ That  it  blunts 
the  appetite,  impedes  the  digestion,  and  mysteriously  wreaks 
vengeance  on  the  liver,  cannot  be  doubted.” 

I know  families — and  not  a few  of  them — in  which  each  feminine 
member  averages  a pound  of  cand}^  per  week.  It  is  not  an  uncom- 
mon thing  for  a couple  of  school-girls  to  eat  a pound  of  Huyler’s 
butter-cups,”  or  “ Maillard’s  chocolates,”  or  “ Costello’s  marrons 
glacees^''  or  Arnaud’s  jelly-creams  ” at  a sitting.  I have  seen  the 
belle  of  a summer  resort  dispose  with  apparent  comfort  of  five  pound 
boxes  in  as  many  days.  So  well  is  this  passion  of  the  maiden’s 
soul  understood  by  him  whose  life-long  business  it  is  to  make  her 
happy,  that  he  feeds  it  with  the  regularity  of  grist  to  a mill,  her 
ruby  mouth  being  the  hopper. 

Candy-shops  spring  up  almost  as  rapidly  as  drinking-saloons  in 
our  cities ; every  cross-roads  country-store  has  its  jar  of  stony  or 
crumbly  “ sweeties,”  as  our  English  cousins  name  them ; the  boy 
who  supplies  passengers  in  our  out-going  and  in-coming  trains  with 
the  daily  paper,  without  which  the  patriot  mind  cannot  enter  upon 


THE  CANDY  CURSE. 


175 


tlie  day’s  action  or  tlie  night’s  rest,  deafens  us  on  alternate  rounds 
with  laudation  of  “ Broken-Candy,”  and,  lest  some  weary  traveler 
might  escape  temptation,  the  news  stands  in  every  station  protrude 
a sly  recommendation  to  “ drop  a nickel  in  the  slot,  and  receive  a 
package  of  delicious  bon-bons  ! ” 

A young  man,  walking  up  Fifth  avenue,  was  the  edified  witness 
of  a rencontre  between  two  pairs  of  fashionable  damsels  at  the 
junction  of  the  avenue  with  Thirty-fourth  street. 

“ Do  come  to  the  meeting  of  our  Literary  Club  this  afternoon,” 
cried  one  brace  in  concert.  “ Mrs.  S.,  the  celebrated  elocutionist, 
you  know,  reads  ‘The  Coming  Man,’  while  we  work.  Just  the 
j oiliest,  pleasantest  way  of  spending  a quiet  hour  you  can  imagine  ! ” 
“ What  kind  of  fancy-work  do  you  take  ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” a giggled  duet,  “We  eat  candy,  and  wait  for  ‘ The 
Coming  Man,’  you  know ! ” 

“ Eat  candy  ! ” When  does  not  the  girl  of  the  period  devour  it  ? A 
sallow  child  of  fourteen  was  a guest  in  my  house  for  some  weeks.  Her 
mother  committed  her  to  me  with  many  injunctions  to  extreme  care 
and  tenderness.  She  had  never  been  strong,  and  was  rapidly  fall- 
ing into  the  confirmed  delicacy  so  common  in  the  growing  girl,  that 
neither  mother  or  daughter  is  as  much  ashamed  of  it  as  she  should 
be  of  such  a wretched  piece  of  work.  The  anxious  but  resigned 
parent  in  this  case,  “ supposed,”  as  did  my  ferry  boat  acquaintance, 
that  “ it  would  all  come  right  by-and-by.” 

“ It  ” was  very  far  wrong  now.  The  girl,  dwarfed  in  stature, 
and  yellow-brown  of  skin,  was  a prey  to  dyspepsia  and  sick  head- 
aches. For  four  successive  nights,  I was  summoned  to  her  room  to 
administer  remedies  for  cramp  and  nausea.  She  was  a sweet,  patient 
little  thing,  and  unaffectedly  distressed  by  the  trouble  she  gave. 
“ But  she  was  subject  to  these  attacks.  So  was  mamma.  Mamma 
supposed  she  inherited  them.” 


176 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


As  she  turned  on  the  pillow  in  moaning  out  the  borrowed  phrase, 
I heard  the  rustle  of  paper.  Thrusting  my  hand  under  the  bolster, 
I drew  forth  a paper  of  chocolate  comfits  and  cocoanut-balls. 

In  no  wise  abashed  by  my  horrified  look,  the  sufferer  explained 
languidly : 

“ I always  like  to  have  some  candy  where  I can  eat  it  in  the 
night,  if  I awake  and  feel  lonesome.  Mamma  used  to  leave  a paper 
of  gum-drops  under  my  pillow,  when  I wasn’t  more  than  a baby, 
so’s  I wouldn’t  be  afraid  to  go  to  sleep  in  the  dark.  It’s  a great  deal 
of  company.  Mamma  calls  candy,  my  ‘ bedside  comforter.’  ” 

Inquiry  showed  that  her  father  allowed  her  twenty-five  cents  a 
week  for  “ candy-money.”  Of  course,  she  bought  only  the 
cheapest  kinds  in  order  to  get  enough  to  last. 

Confiscation  of  the  poisonous  stuff,  and  gentle  remonstrance 
with  the  tractable  child  against  the  habit  I could  not  condemn 
unsparingly,  since  her  mother  had  inculcated  it,  wrought  a rapid 
and  blessed  change.  In  a month’s  time,  she  was  plump,  rosy,  and 
so  well  that  my  heart  ached  when  I had  to  return  her  to  her  natural 
guardians. 

There  is  little  or  no  nourishment  in  sugar,  as  an  exclusive 
article  of  diet.  But  if  babies,  school-girls,  society-belles,  mothers 
and  grandmothers  would  satisfy  their  lust  for  sweets  with  pure 
sugar — or  even  the  sugar  of  commerce — the  mischief  done  would 
be  reduced  to  a minimum. 

Dr.  Edson  enumerates  among  the  substances  added  for  increas 
ing  the  weight  of  candy — “ Terra  alba,  kaolin  (decomposed 
feldspar),  whiting,  starch  and  ground-quartz.” 

Among  the  coloring  substances  used  to  make  our  candy  pleasant 
to  the  eye,  he  gives  arsenic,  chromium  and  lead.  Adulterations  for 
flavor  are  managed  by  help  of  a distillation  of  “ rancid  butter,  wood 
alcohol  and  oil  of  vitrol,  into  essence  of  pine-apple ; also,  by 


177 


I'HE  CANDY  CURSE. 

fusel  oil  and  prussic  acid,’^  while  “ a very  fragrant,  fruity  essence 
may  be  made  of  rotten  cheese  by  treating  it  with  oil  of  vitriol  and 
bichromate  of  potash.’’ 

Much  of  the  cheap  chocolate  sold  at  corner  candy  stores  is  mixed 
with  clay,  colored  with  burnt  umber. 

The  taste  for  sweets  is  natural,  and,  if  indulged  within  bounds, 
innocent.  The  craving  for  puddings,  ices  and  sweetmeats,  at  the 
conclusion  of  a meal,  leads  to  the  introduction  of  healthful  acids 
into  the  busy  stomach,  which  neutralize  alkalis  and  oils,  and  help 
on  the  specific  end  of  assimilation. 

The  practice  of  munching,  at  all  times  and  seasons,  bon-bons, 
expensive  or  cheap,  until  the  stomach  and  that  mysterious  potentate, 
the  liver,  are  provoked  to  vengeance  sure  and  dire,  is  what  I have 
called  it — a senseless  vice,  and  a crying  CURSE. 


With  Our  Boys. 

^ W / ILLIAM  WIRT — than  whom  no  more  graceful  and 
III  genial  gentleman  ever  lived,  even  in  his  day  when  the 
“ gentleman  of  the  old  school  ” flourished  and  was 
the  fashion — admonished  his  daughter  to  practice 
sedulously  ‘‘the  small,  sweet  courtesies  of  life.” 

We  often  repeat  the  phrase,  forgetful  of  its  authorship.  Obe- 
dience to  the  injunction  is,  I fear  me,  more  rapidly  lapsing  into 
disuse  than  the  sage  of  a century  ago  could  have  foreseen  in  his 
darkest  imaginings. 

The  gentleman  of  the  old  school  honored  me  by  a half-hour’s 
talk  at  a party  the  other  evening.  He  began  or  ended  every 
sentence  with  “ Madame,”  with  a slight  and  charming  emphasis 
upon  the  latter  syllable.  He  wore  a white  cravat,  and  gloves,  and 
a dress-coat.  Two  fingers  of  one  hand  were  gently  insinuated 
between  the  second  and  third  buttons  of  his  vest ; the  other  hand 
was  thrown  lightly  across  his  back.  He  stood  erect,  while  younger 
men  lolled  over  the  backs  of  chairs  and  sofas,  or  leaned  against  the 
wall.  His  silvery  head  was  slightly  inclined  toward  me,  and  when 
I spoke,  he  listened  without  wandering  eye  or  uneasy  motion. 

“ In  the  olden  time  we  needed  not  to  be  reminded  to  select  part- 
ners for  the  dance,  or  to  escort  ladies  to  the  supper-room,”  he  said, 
offering  his  arm  to  me  with  a bow  that  was  a compliment  in  itself, 

178 


GENTLEMAN  OF  THE  OLD  SCHOOL. 


WITH  OUR  BOYS. 


i8i 

without  the  neat  speech  that  entreated  the  honor.  Now,  the 
host’s  most  arduous  duty  is  charging  into  the  herds  of  men  in 
comers  and  halls,  to  drive  them  through  the  bare  forms  of  civility. 
It  is  lamentable,  madame ! appalling  to  one  who  has  noted  the 
progress  of  the  evil ! ” 

I looked  out  the  verb  to  herd,”  that  night.  “ To  unite  or 
associate  as  beasts.  To  feed  or  run  in  collections.  Most  beasts 
manifest  a disposition  to  herdP 

Reams  of  paper  are  blotted,  and  thousands  of  cubic  feet  of  air 
wasted,  in  proving  that  a woman  is  unsexed  by  qualifying  herself 
to  earn  her  bread,  should  need  arise.  The  man  who  ceases  to  regard 
his  strength  as  a protection  for  her  weakness ; whose  asperities 
disdain  the  tempering  of  her  graces  ; who  marks  out  for  himself  a 
path  so  narrow  that  she  cannot  walk  therein  at  his  side — may  not 
be  unsexed,  but  he  is  dehumanized.  The  taint  of  the  herd  clings 
to  him  everywhere.  Under  such  leadership  the  disposition  spreads 
fast  and  far.  Our  boys  learn  the  stare,  the  scamper,  the  rush,  the 
crowding  and  hustling,  by  the  time  they  leave  off  the  skirts  they 
detest  as  “ girls’  clothes.” 

I shall  never  invite  that  person  to  my  house  again,’  said  a not 
very  fastidious  matron  to  me  not  long  ago.  He  does  not  know 
enough  to  touch  his  hat  to  a lady  in  the  street.” 

I recalled  the  censure  in  the  course  of  a morning  walk  taken  in 
the  streets  of  a large  city  which  shall  be  nameless.  I was  nodded 
at,  and  to,  more  or  less  familiarly,  by  a butcher’s  errand-boy,  by 
a candidate  for  a seat  in  the  U.  S.  Senate,  by  a Judge  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  by  a wealthy  merchant  rolling  down  town  in  his  carriage,  by 
an  eminent  lawyer  born  of  aristocratic  stock,  and  by  the  smiling 
superintendent  of  a Sabbath  school. 

The  day  was  bitter,  and  the  butcher’s  boy  had  no  gloves.  I forgave 


i82 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


him  for  keeping  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  but  not  for  whistling  a 
negro  melody  as  he  passed  me. 

In  another  city,  I have  been  lately  waited  upon  (?)  by  a dry- 
goods  clerk  to  the  measure  of  “ Rock-a-by,  Baby,”  hummed  over 
and  over,  under  his  waxed  moustache,  and,  upon  putting  a civil 
question  to  the  proprietor  of  another  “ genteel  ” establishment,  I 
was  almost  stunned  into  astonished  silence  by  a vociferated — “What 
say  ! ” flung  into  my  face.  No  wonder  that  the  old-world  peasant 
who  stands,  hat  in  hand,  before  “ the  lady  ” who  hires  him  at  Castle 
Garden,  soon  recognizes  in  the  omission  to  remove  or  touch  his 
head-covering,  the  sign-patent  of  free-and-enlightened  citizenship, 
and  nods  as  royally  as  does  his  mistress’s  husband.  In  the  matter 
of  hats,  our  school-boys  might  be  so  many  Quakers.  The  instinct- 
ive pluck  at  the  cap  at  the  approach  of  a lady-acquaintance,  the 
bow  and  smile,  the  yielding  the  right  of  way  at  crossings  and 
doorways,  the  spring  forward  to  open  and  hold  back  gates,  are  as 
graceful  and  becoming  now  as  in  our  grandmother’s  sight,  but  have 
a pathetic  charm  from  their  rarity. 

Another  cheap  and  easy  declaration  of  masculine  sovereignty  is 
the  contempt  for,  and  abolition  of  the  empty  titles  affixed  by  old- 
fashioned  custom  to  the  names  of  seniors,  superiors  in  rank  or 
learning,  young  ladies,  and  even  school-girls— to  these  last  by 
virtue  of  their,  then,  honored  sex.  The  stately  graciousness  of 
Hon.  Edward  Everett,  statesman,  scholar  and  philanthropist,  did 
not  deter  the  college  lad  over  the  way  from  alluding  to  him  as  “ old 
Ned  Everett,  you  know.”  Phineas  Fungus,  Esq.,  is  enormously 
rich,  the  mayor  of  his  native  town,  and  might  be  governor  of  the 
State  if  he  willed  it.  But  the  draymen  and  porters  chat  at  the 
doors  of  his  warehouses,  of  “ Phinny  ” and  “ Old  Fun,”  unless 
when  they  are  prematurely  reverential.  Then  he  is  “ the  Boss.” 


WITH  OUR  BOYb. 


1^3 

Familiarity  of  speech  leads  as  naturally  to  freedom  of  touch  as 
brooks  to  rivers,  or  neglect  of  “ small,  sweet  courtesies  ” to  overt 
boorishness.  I do  not  exaggerate  in  asserting  that  the  feminine 
portion  of  Young  America  that  affects  picnics,  singing-schools, 
straw-rides,  church  sociables  and  surprise  parties,  needs  as  much  to 
be  ticketed  “Hands  off!”  as  the  valuables  in  an  art-exhibition. 
vWhen  the  finger  of  a man  who  is  not  my  husband  or  kinsman  is 
pressed  upon  my  shoulder  to  point  a story,  or  attract  attention ; 
when  a forward  youth  fillips  my  arm  with  his  folded  glove  at  an 
evening  party  with  : — “ I say  1 ” I may  be,  and  am  offended,  but  in 
a quiet,  matronly  sort.  When  I see  a thoughtless  school-girl  sit, 
hand-in-hand,  on  steamboat  or  car  with  a man  whom  I know  to  be 
a mere  acquaintance,  or  the  opera-cloak  pressed  long  and  closely 
about  the  pretty  young  thing  whom  her  escort  wraps  up  officiously 
before  leading  her  to  her  carriage ; when  girls  are  hauled  and 
pushed  and  buffeted  in  romping  games,  and  in  dances  that  are 
nothing  better,  as  the  herd  might  jostle  one  another,  my  blood  heats 
with  more  indignant  fire.  No  true  *man  will  needlessly^  much  less 
wantonly^  put  a woman  upon  the  defensive.  The  best  that  can  be 
said  of  him  who  claps  the  lady-guest  on  the  back  as  he  might  her 
husband,  or  the  coxcomb,  who,  without  her  permission,  dares  to 
omit  the  “ Miss  ” in  accosting  his  girl-friend  is,  as  I said  in  a former 
chapter,  that  he  “ knows  no  better.”  If  they  guessed  how  often  the 
plea  is  urged  in  extenuation  of  their  bovine  gambols  by  charitable 
friends  with  j uster  ideas  of  the  decencies  and  amenities  of  society, 
the  shock  to  self-conceit  might  be  a wholesome  lesson. 

I have  read  the  letters  of  my  great-grandfather.  Colonel  under 
the  commission  of  the  Continental  Congress,  and  a sturdy  Puritan 
patriarch,  to  the  wife  of  many  years’  standing.  His  tenderest 
epithet  is  : — “ My  excellent  Wife.”  He  usually  addresses  her  as, 
“ Honored  Madam.”  I would  that  any  spoken  or  written  word  of 


184 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


those  who  note,  sorrowfully,  with  the  courtly  old  censor  I have 
quoted,  the  progress  of  the  decadence  in  manners,  if  not  in  morals, 
since  the  age  we  deride  as  formal  and  severe,  could  ingraft  upon  the 
social  free-thinking  of  this,  something  of  the  outward  deference  to 
womankind — as  such — that  lends  exquisite,  if  quaint,  flavor  to  the 
family  histories  of  that  date. 


Our  Boy,  and  Our  Boys  Father. 


WITTY  man  once  told  a story  to  a company  of  friends 
apropos  to  a talk  upon  the  best  way  of  bringing  up  boys 
f * without  spoiling  them  by  indulgence,  or  estranging  them 
▼ by  unwise  strictness. 

I cannot  give  the  anecdote  the  raciness  imparted  by  the  witty 
man’s  manner  and  tone,  but  I reproduce  the  matter.  The  heartache 
that  outlived  the  laugh  which  applauded  the  conclusion,  is  with  me 
still. 


Boston  clergyman,”  said  the  witty  man,  “ consulted  one  of 
his  deacons  as  to  the  evil  courses  of  his  (the  B.  C.’s)  son,  and  the 
possibilities  of  curing  him  of  them. 

“ ‘ He  has  rubbed  into  people’s  minds  the  unkind  old  saying 
about  clergymen’s  sons,’  complained  the  father.  ^ He  is  twenty-five 
years  old,  and  has  been  nothing  but  a sorrow  to  his  mother  and 
myself,  since  he  was  expelled  from  college  at  seventeen.  He  drinks 
hard,  gambles  and  loafs  ; comes  home  drunk  every  night ; frequents 
the  lowest  places  of  amusement,  and  takes  pleasure  in  vile  company. 
Nothing  good  has  any  hold  upon  him.  I am  at  my  wit’s  end.  My 
wife  is  dying  slowly  of  a broken  heart.  What  would  you  advise  ? ’ 
“The  deacon  was  a deep  thinker,  and  a slow  talker.  He  took 
off  his  glasses  and  rubbed  them  with  his  pocket  handkerchief, 
while  he  swung  himself  gently  back  and  forth  in  his  revolving 
desk-chair. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


1 86 


“ ‘ Maybe  you  haven’t  made  a companion  of  your  boy,  doctor-  - 
haven’t  entered  into  his  feelings  and  interests  as  you  might.  That 
works  pretty  well,  sometimes.  Go  to  hear  Booth  and  Barrett  with 
him,  instead  of  letting  him  stray  into  variety  theaters  by  himself, 
or  with  even  worse  eompany.  Go  to  a horse-raee  with  him,  and 
talk  horse  now  and  then.  Take  him  out  to  drive  with  you,  and  let 
him  choose  the  horse  and  hold  the  reins.  Go  to  see  good  pictures 
and  hear  good  musie  with  him,  and  don’t  mind  setting  up  a supper 
for  him  afterward  at  Parker’s  or  Young’s.  See  if  you  can’t  interest 
him  in  your  affairs  and  talk.  Take  him  to  the  top  of  the  State 
House  and  point  out  the  changes  in  the  country  and  city,  since  you 
were  his  age.  Touch  him  up  on  politics  and  history.  Stimulate 
his  pride  as  a citizen  of  a great  and  growing  country.  Bring  in 
the  Boston  tea-party,  and  John  Hancock  and  Faneuil  Hall.  While 
you  are  talking,  work  him  nearer  and  nearer  the  edge  of  the  roof, 
and  when  you’ve  got  him  where  you  want  him,  give  him  a smart 
shove  and  break  his  blamed  neek ! That’s  the  only  way  to  cure 
your  boy  ! ’ ” 

The  element  of  the  unexpected  and  the  incongruous  raised  a 
general  laugh,  as  I have  remarked.  The  terrible  touch  of  truth  in 
the  grotesque  climax  pricks  like  a thorn  in  the  remembrance  of  the 
story. 

Girls  are  brought  up  like  hop-vines,  convolvuli  and  other 
climbers.  If  there  be  a little  more  wood  in  some  than  in  others, 
vires  are  substituted  for  strings,  and  the  training  fingers  are  plied 
more  frequently  than  with  succulent  stems,  each  terminal  bud  of 
which  points  naturally  in  the  direction  of  the  next  needful  coil  and 
cling. 

Boys  grow  up — manipulate  and  dictate  as  we  will.  The  young 
tree  takes  shape  early,  makes  wood,  bark,  and  branches  after  its 
kind.  The  attempt  to  make  wall-fruit  of  the  sturdy  thing  by 


OUR  BOY,  AND  OUR  BOY’S  FATHER. 


187 


binding  it  to  espalier  and  bricks,  is  a continual  conflict  of  wills. 
Bound  in  on  one  side,  the  rebel  flings  audacious  arms  abroad  on  the 
other,  twists,  and  writhes,  and  knots  into  ungainliness. 

“ Turns  ugly,”  we  say  of  the  boy.  The  mother  sheds  ineffectual 
tears  that  Dick  yawns  aggressively  or  drops  asleep  over  his  book 
during  the  quiet  home-evenings  she,  “ father,”  and  the  girls  “do  so 
enjoy.”  Father  has  his  newspaper,  mother  her  mending-basket, 
and  the  girls  their  fancy-work,  over  which  they  twitter  like  wrens 
in  nesting-time.  Dick  is  not  interested  in  their  chirpings,  nor  has 
he  reached  the  dressing-gown-slippers-and-evening-pap^  age.  Even 
if  he  be  a student,  night-fall,  which  brings  the  longing  for  domestic 
quiet  to  elderly  world-workers,  suggests  fun — stir — larks — to  him. 
It  is  as  natural  for  him  to  feel  the  inclination  to  leap  domestic 
bounds  as  for  a colt  to  jump  the  paddock-fence  for  a gallop  upon 
the  upland  moors. 

The  world  is  before  the  immature  man.  It  is  his  to  conquer, 
and  he  would  try  his  coming  strength  in  a preliminary  wrestle, 
once  in  a while.  At  least,  he  must  reconnoiter.  His  whole  nature 
is  uneasy  for  action.  We  may  know  that  he  is  not  equipped  for  it, 
but  he  does  not. 

The  English  have  a word  that  well  describes  our  boy  in  the 
transition  stage.  They  say  he  is  “ bumptious.”  If,  in  the  first 
dress-coat  which,  with  the  native  youth,  now  usurps  the  place  in 
ambition  and  affection  once  held  by  the  first  pair  of  “ real  men’s 
boots,”  he  reminds  us,  in  this  same  bumptiousness,  of  a pollywog 
who  has  developed  one  pair  of  legs,  but  not  parted  with  his  tail,  we 
smile  affectionately,  and  are  almost  sorry  to  think  how  mortified  he 
will  be,  in  the  inevitable  days  to  come,  in  the  recollection  of  the 
absurd  figure  he  cut.  Mentally  and  morally,  he  is  what  he  appears 
to  us  physically — all  growing  legs  and  arms.  The  inches  increase 


i88  . HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

so  fast  that  he  has  not  time  to  get  used  to  one  before  another 
is  here. 

Nobody — to  the  senior’s  shame  be  it  said — is  more  intolerant  of 
the  lad’s  figurative  and  literal  lurchings  and  lunges,  than  pater- 
familias. Men  have  shorter  memories  of  their  youthful  follies  than 
have  women.  When  Paul  put  away  childish  things,  he  threw  them 
clean  out  of  sight.  Dick,  fretting  on  his  curb,  hungering  for  green 
pastures  while  he  is  fed  upon  the  well-cured  hay  pater  munches 
contentedly,  finds  it  more  difficult  to  believe  that  his  parent  was 
ever  coltish,  than  does  the  sober  old  roadster  himself.  In  the 
recollection  of  that  by-gone  period — its  follies,  scrapes  and 
longings — on  the  father’s  part,  lies  the  boy’s  salvation. 

“ I fines  you  joost  noting  at  all ! ” said  the  Dutch  justice  to  the 
prisoner  convicted  of  having  got  drunk  on  gin-sling.  “ I vonce  got 
droonk  mit  gin-sling  mineselluf ! ” 

The  attempt  to  convince  Dick  that  his  father  has  always  jogged 
along  the  well-sprinkled  highway  of  the  respectability  which  is  its 
own  reward,  will,  if  successful,  fix  a great  gulf  between  the  pair, 
just  when  the  youngster’s  need  of  help  is  sorest. 

“ Papa  was  such  a pious  duffer  at  school  that  he  wouldn’t  under- 
stand, so  I came  to  you,”  was  the  prelude  to  a penitent  confession 
of  boyish  misdoing.  “You  can’t  know  how  it  is  yourself,  of  course 
— ” stammering,  as  a faint  smile  crept  tremulously  to  the  con- 
fidante’s lips  ; — “ only,  you  see,  mothers  somehow  make  allowances 
for  everything.” 

The  father  who  does — to  steal  the  lad’s  slang — “ know  how  it  is 
himself,  ” and  is  not  ashamed  to  quote  his  past  experience  in  warn- 
ing or  encouragement,  has  a purchase  upon  the  young  fellow’s 
confidence  nothing  else  can  give.  Our  “ B.  C.”  did  not  begin  the 
business  of  entering  into  his  son’s  feelings  by  rejuvenation  of  him- 
self, early  enough.  The  egregious  injustice  of  trying  to  drag  a boy 


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OUR  BOY,  AND  OUR  BOY’S  FATHER.  191 

tip  to  the  plane  occupied  by  a man  of  forty,  when  the  man  of  forty 
will  not,  or  cannot,  step  down  for  a while  into  the  tracks  left  on  the 
lower  road  by  his  own  rash,  uncertain  feet,  is  unreasonable,  selfish, 
and  monstrous. 

“ Out,  again  ! ” said  a merchant-father,  lowering  his  newspaper 
to  frown  over  it  at  his  son,  a handsome  stripling  of  eighteen,  in 
correct  evening  costume,  who  looked  into  the  family  sitting-room  to 
get  his  mother  to  put  a rosebud  in  his  button-hole.  “ The  third 
time  this  week  ! Where,  now  ? ” 

The  lad,  respectfully  enough,  named  a neighbor’s  house. 

“ There  is  to  be  a little  dance  there,  this  evening,  and  I promised 
to  come  in.” 

“ When  I was  your  age,  young  man,  I spent  most  of  my  even- 
ings at  home  with  my  parents,  and  was  in  bed  usually  by  nine 
o’clock.  I don’t  know  what  the  world  is  coming  to  ! But  there  is 
no  use  talking ! If  you  ride  to  the  devil,  you  must  go ! ” 

The  boy’s  sunny  face  darkened ; he  bit  something  back  from 
his  lips  before  he  laid  them  silently  to  his  mother’s  cheek.  The 
father  noted  the  caress,  and  remarked  upon  it  when  the  son 
had  gone. 

If  you  would  use  your  influence  to  better  purpose,  the  fellow 
might  be  good  for  something.” 

The  wife’s  answer  is  worth  repeating : 

“It  is  as  natural  for  young  people  to  get  together  for  social 
amusements  as  for  old  people  to  hug  the  fireside,  and  long  for  quiet 
and  rest.  If  we  do  not  encourage  the  boy  to  have  harmless  pleas- 
ures at  proper  times,  we  tempt  him  to  seek  hurtful  pleasures  at 
unlawful  hours.  If  he  could  not  go  into  society  without  me,  I 
would  leave  you  to  read  and  doze  here  alone  and  accompany  him,  at 


192 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


any  and  every  cost  of  personal  convenience.  I wonld  rather  sacri- 
fice myself  than  him.  My  service  to  my  generation  is  nearly  done. 
His  has  just  begun.” 

The  father  resumed  his  paper  with  a grunt  that  might  mean 
dissent  or  contempt.  It  was  not  sympathy. 

To  me,  the  firm  gentleness  of  the  mother’s  reply  was  like  the 
echo  of  Other  Words,  in  which  is  the  healing  of  the  world : “ For 
I came  not  to  call  the  righteous^  but  sinners  to  repejitancei'* 


Literary  Life  of  the  Household. 

SOME  households  have  none.  Households  wherein  money 
abounds,  and  taste  in  the  matter  of  furniture  and  dress  is 
distinctly  evinced.  There  is  even  a pleasing  display  of  the 
surface  aestheticism  which,  with  many,  passes  for  culture, 
having  come  into  fashion  with  galvanized  (nickel)  silver,  and 
machine  lace,  and  cotton-backed  velvet.  There  are  still  other 
households  where  shams  are  abhorred  and  in  which  a part  of 
religion  is  to  have  “ everything  of  the  best.”  The  father  is  a solid 
citizen,  who  reads  one  first-class  journal  through  every  day,  and 
votes  in  church  and  politics  on  the  right  side,  as  his  father  did 
before  him.  The  mother  is  a wise  Lady  Bountiful  at  home,  and  in 
neighborhood;  thrifty,  sensible,  kindly  and  not  uneducated,  as 
education  went,  thirty  years  back  of  us.  Sons  and  daughters — 
albeit  known  to  non-fashionists  as  “ society  men  and  women  ” — 
are  irreproachable  in  character,  courteous,  popular  and  alive  to  the 
fact  that  the  world  moves  to  different  measure  than  the  minuet 
music  of  lang  syne. 

All  these  representative  families  have  social,  domestic,  some  of 
them  religious  lines, — none  what  maybe  styled,  according  to  the  most 
liberal  interp)retation,  literary  life.  Let  me  specify  at  this  point  that 
this  broad  rendering  is  here  applied  to  what  is,  in  itself,  an  elastic 


194 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


definition, — tlie  second  given  by  my  oft-consulted  lexicon,  of  tbe 
word  “ literary,” — “ Versed  in,  or  acquainted  with  literature.” 

The  degree  of  acquaintanceship  with  which  we  have  to  do  is 
what  may  be  termed  amateur  cognition,  in  contradistinction  to  pro- 
fessional mastery  ; appreciation  of  literature  as  an  art,  not  profound 
understanding  of  it  as  a science.  Such  knowledge  as  any  of  us  may 
have  of  fashions  in  dress  and  household  decoration,  and  political 
economy,  without  professional  interest  in  the  topic. 

In  the  consideration  of  our  subject  we  will,  therefore,  exclude 
the  families  of  editors,  publishers  and  authors.  Unless  the  intel- 
lectual cuticle  and  epidermis  be  phenomenally  tough,  the  members 
of  these  must  take  in  through  the  pores  some  measure  of  literary 
knowledge,  or,  at  least,  appreciation. 

Wise  sociologists  are  beginning  to  admit  that  the  system  of 
compulsory  education,  while  excellent  so  far  as  it  goes,  does  not  go 
far  or  deep  enough.  It  is,  in  effect,  harrowing,  not  plowing.  Every 
teacher  of  youth  who  brings  to  bear  upon  his  calling  more  than  me- 
chanical fidelity  knows  against  what  odds  he  labors  who  tries  to 
undo  in  six  hours  what  has  been  wrought  in  double  that  time. 
How  grateful  is  the  task  of  drilling  the  seeds  of  knowledge  into 
prepared  soil ! Such  an  instructor  could  describe,  with  marvellous 
accuracy,  what  manner  of  parents  and  home  influence  each  of  his 
pupils  has,  although  he  may  never  have  entered  the  doors  of  one  of 
them.  It  is  the  family  life  that  gives  mental  tone  and  character,  no 
less  than  moral.  The  child  who  hears  ungrammatical  speech  at 
home,  studies  grammar  as  a dead  language.  His  desk-mate,  who 
meets  frequent  allusion  in  his  lessons  in  history,  geography  and 
natural  philosophy,  to  matter  she  has  heard  talked  of  in  the  home 
circle,  is  at  once  on  familiar  ground.  At  the  best,  the  province  of 
the  schools  is  only  to  dig  a foundation  and  build  walls.  The  mis- 
cellaneous information  picked  up,  the  learner  knows  not  how ; the 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 


195 


habit  of  collecting  and  classifying  material  which  is  acquired  by  asso- 
ication  with  trained  minds ; the  dwelling  in  an  atmosphere  of 
thought  and  intelligence ; — these  furnish  the  rest,  are  the  means 
by  which  the  edifice  grows  into  compactness  and  beauty. 

The  inference  is  patent.  Where  this  kind  of  education  is 
withheld,  the  child  sustains  irreparable  loss.  It  is  a wrong, 
unavoidably  or  carelessly  inflicted,  that,  throughout  his  life,  stamps 
the  self-made  man  as  one  who  “ had  few  advantages  in  youth. 
The  pat  phrase  gives  the  popular  verdict  on  this  head.  It  matters 
uot  to  what  fair  proportions  he  may  attain — mentally,  politically  or 
socially — there  is  ever  that  about  him  which  betrays  his  tribal 
antecedents,  be  it  only  a conciousness  of  altitude,  a toss  and 
pluminess  of  air,  as  of  a tall  reed  that  has  shot  aloft  out  of  a tangle 
of  coarse  grasses  and  mud-flags.  More  palpable  indications  of  his 
early  disadvantages  are  provincial  tricks  of  speech,  and  lingual 
lapses  into  glaring  faults  of  grammatical  construction.  Our  rising 
man  tells  his  friends  that  he  “ wants  they  should  visit  with  ” him 
at  his  own  house,  he  “ guesses  ” and  “ presumes  likely,”  and,  as 
the  president  of  a board  of  education,  announces  publicly  that 
‘‘  children  had  ought  to  be  learned  to  speak  correct  from  their 
cradles  ” [sic).  This  same  president  had  attended  a public  school 
for  twelve  years.  He  possessed  much  crude  mental  strength 
which,  combined  with  sharp  perceptive  powers  and  infinite  energy, 
made  him  a valuable  citizen  and  a millionaire.  His  speech  was  the 
vernacular  of  his  father’s  house,  and  he  never  unlearned  it.  He 
thought  better  than  he  talked,  or  he  would  never  have  got  his  head 
above  the  mud. 

The  “ society  young  people  ” we  spoke  of,  just  now,  early  lop 
off  provincialisms  and  eschew  double  negatives,  whether  ^ their 
parents  follow  their  example  or  not,  avoiding  verbal  blunders  as 
they  shun  mistakes  in  the  etiquette  of  the  table  or  in  the  combin- 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


T96 

atiou  of  colors.  But,  with  so  large  a majority  of  them  that  I am 
ashamed  to  state  it,  even  the  literature  of  their  own  language  is  a 
sealed  well  from  the  day  they  leave  school.  Beyond  a few  novels, 
usually  of  the  lightest  caliber,  or  lighter  tales  iu  weekly  or  monthly 
periodicals,  the  girls  read  little,  the  young  men  less,  the  parents 
least  of  all.  It  is  a marked  exception  in  a rule,  terrible  in  its 
universality,  when  the  Business  Man,  whose  whole  heart  and  soul 
and  being  are  in  the  craft  that  gains  his  wealth,  reads  anything 
except  The  Newspaper.  The  capitalized  words  go  together  as 
naturally  as  knife  and  fork,  shovel  and  tongs.  If  he  be  a very 
successful  Business  Man,  the  strong  probability  is  that  he  considers 
love  of  literature  a weakness,  and  what  he  calls  a “ bookworm,”  as 
scarcely  worthy  of  the  scientific  classification  of  the  creeping  thing 
whose  name  he  borrows — “An  animal  of  the  inferior  grand  division 
of  Articulates.”  Book-makers  under-rank  Lmnbrici  in  his  esti- 
mation. Such  an  eminently  successful  citizen  (who  might  have 
sat  for  the  portrait  of  Silas  Lapham)  once  told  me  that  he  would 
not  have  a library  in  his  house  for  fear  his  boys  might  pass  their 
evenings  “ fooling  over  books.”  He — their  sire — “ could  not  have 
made  money  faster  if  his  skull  had  been  crammed  chock  full  of 
college  learning.” 

Yet  some  of  his  brethren  attempt  the  role  of  Maecenas  in  the 
matter  of  pictures  and  music,  conning  a limited  list  of  florid  art 
catchwords,  and  rolling  them  like  unctuous  morsels,  or  a quid  of 
tobacco,  in  their  mouths.  Paintings,  statuary,  opera-box  and  cham- 
ber-concerts represent  money  ; the  possession  of  them  pre-supposes 
depth  of  purse.  It  would  be  singular  if  the  girl  who  “ does  not  care 
to  read”  should,  after  marriage,  develop  a taste  for  literature.  If 
there  exist  within  her  any  natural  love  for  such  pursuits,  the  com- 
parative leisure  of  maidenhood  will  foster  it  into  active  growth. 
Association  with  people  who  take  it  for  granted  that,  as  Miss  Edge- 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 


197 


worth’s  Mrs.  Harcourt  quietly  reminds  her  foolish  visitor — “ Every- 
body reads  now-a-days  ” — may  engender  a disposition  and  create  a 
conscience  in  this  direction  while  the  mind  is  immature  and  the 
character  plastic.  But  I have  yet  to  meet  the  unintellectual,  frivo- 
lous girl  who,  as  matron  and  mother,  learned  to  love  books  and 
sought,  voluntarily,  to  repair  the  deficiencies  in  her  early  mental 
training.  The  man  of  letters  who  dreams  of  marrying  the  beauty 
who  “ hardly  ever  opens  a book,”  and  educating  her  into  a help- 
meet for  his  erudite  self,  would  do  well  to  ponder  the  summing  up 
of  David  Copperfield’s  experiment  in  this  kind  of  agriculture : “It 
began  to  dawn  upon  me,”  he  says,  “ that  perhaps  my  child-wife’s 
mind  was  already  formed.” 

If  the  father’s  contemptuous  neglect  of  literature  deserves  the 
epithet  I have  applied  to  it — “ terrible  ” — what  shall  we  say  of  the 
mother’s  indifference,  her  contented  settling  down  into  what  is,  for 
all  practical  and  beneficent  purposes,  illiteracy  ? 

“ Who  is  she  ? ” the  stereotyped  inquiry  of  the  cynical  chief  of 
police  when  a crime  of  unusual  atrocity  was  reported  to  him,  may 
be  applied  more  pertinently  when  the  social,  moral,  or  intellectual 
status  of  a family  of  young  people  is  brought  up  for  judgment. 
Whatever  may  be  the  father’s  proclivities,  the  children,  in  their 
nonage,  either  follow  their  mother’s  lead,  or  override,  if  they  do  not 
also  despise  her.  (Yet  there  are  married  women  who  deafen  Heaven 
and  the  public  with  cries  for  “ Higher  missions!”)  If  the  mother’s 
books  are  valued  friends,  from  communion  with  which  she  draws 
sustenance  for  heart  and  mind,  if  their  essence  interpenetrates  her 
speech  and  refines  manner  and  visage,  her  offspring  cannot  escape 
the  reflection  of  color  and  light  from  the  same  source. 

If  these  things  be  so,  and  nobody  denies  them,  why  is  not  every 
mother  a reader,  and,  through  reading,  a learner  for  the  sake  of 
imparting  what  she  knows  to  those  she  loves  best  ? I anticipate 


198 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


the  reply  as  certainly  as  if  it  were  already  spoken  in  my  ear.  I 
wish  I had  recorded  the  number  of  times  it  has  grated  on  my 
tympanum  and  grieved  my  soul. 

Nobody  would  enjoy  reading  more  than  I ! ” then  the  conven- 
tional sigh  of  resignation,  “ but  I cannot  make  time  for  it.” 

A plea  as  false — I mean  it ! — as  false  as  if  the  speaker  were  not 
a Christian  woman,  the  rule  of  whose  life  is  to  keep  the  Decalogue 
in  letter  and  in  spirit.  Women  say  it  with  tears  in  their  eyes, 
coupling  it  with  the  confession  that  they  do  not  read  a book  through 
in  a year,  who,  as  school-girls,  carried  off  prizes  for  composition  and 
belles  lettres^  women  who  “ make  ” three  or  four  \ioMrs^  per  diem ^ for 
embroidery  and  housework  their  servants  are  paid  to  do,  and, 
least  necessary  of  all,  for  gossipry  with  members  of  their  own 
families.  Without  pushing  proof  further,  you  may  quietly  assume, 
when  you  hear  anyone,  except  a factory  slave,  make  such  an 
assertion,  that  the  root  of  the  matter  is  not  in  her  and  never  was. 
Your  true  book-lover  will  read,  and  exercise  such  ingenuity  and 
steadfastness  to  accomplish  this  end  as  her  neighbors  to  the  right 
and  left  put  forth  to  get  hold  of  the  latest  fashions  or  a choice  scrap 
of  scandal. 

Let  us  be  honest  with  ourselves— -call  ignorance  and  indifference 
to  that  ignorance,  blindness  to  duty,  carelessness  as  to  responsibility, 
fatuous  content  with  mediocrity  and  glaze  and  veneer,  by  their 
right  names.  It  is  your  business  and  mine,  my  resigned  sister, 
to  make  the  “ Literary  Life  of  the  household,” — duty,  which  cannot 
be  demitted  unless  the  priestess  at  the  altar  be  deaf,  dumb,  blind 
and  idiotic.  The  selection  of  good,  helpful,  ennobling  books,  the 
systematic  study  of  these,  the  reading  with  and  for  your  children, 
should  be  taken  into  the  account  of  daily  tasks  and  privileges  as 
conscientiously  as  the  family  mending,  the  making  of  beds,  the 
setting  of  tables  and  the  polishing  of  candlesticks. 


• ‘ WHO  - Will-  f^eap  • 


LITERARY  LIFE  OF  THE  HOUSEHOLD. 


201 


Viti  sine  Uteris  mors  est  / ” declaimed  my  twelve-year-old  boy, 
bursting  into  the  library  one  evening,  where  I sat  in  the  twilight 
somberly  pondering  the  problem  I have  discussed.  And,  as  I looked 
up  inquiringly, — “ The  motto  of  our  school,  mamma  ! Which  is, 
being  interpreted,” — grandiloquently — “ Life,  without  letters,  is 
Death.” 

Call  the  interruption  coincidence  if  you  like.  Or,  is  the  legend 
an  extreme  statement,  exaggerated  into  irrelevancy  ? 


] 


Women  as  Mothers, 


LEADER  among  what  is  known  in  New  England  as  the 
Remonstrants — that  is,  the  party  opposed  to  woman  snf- 
I ^ frage — wrote  to  several  hundred  women  all  over  the 

^ country,  asking  for  an  expression  of  their  views  on  the 

subject.  “ So  many  are  inanely  non-committal,  so  many  illogical, 
and  violent,”  she  says,  “ that  my  assistant  in  the  correspondence 
proposes,  when  the  replies  are  all  in,  to  compile  the  epistles  in  a 
volume  entitled — ‘ Reasons  why  Women  should  Not  Vote.’  ” 

Our  boys  are,  in  another  score  of  years,  to  make  the  laws,  heal 
the  soul  and  bodies,  formulate  the  science,  and  control  the  com- 
merce of  their  generation.  Fathers  who,  recognizing  this  great 
truth,  do  not  prepare  their  sons  to  do  their  part  toward  accomplish- 
ing this  work,  are  despised,  and  justly,  by  the  community  in  which 
they  live.  Our  girls  are,  in  another  score  of  years,  to  make  the 
homes  which  are  to  model  and  control  men  who  are  to  make  laws, 
heal  souls  and  bodies,  formulate  science,  and  control  the  commerce 
of  their  generation.  In  these  homes,  are  to  be  born  and  brought  up 
by  the  mothers,  our  grandsons,  who  are  to  make  laws,  etc.,  in  their 
generation.  The  housc-that-Jack-built  row  of  bricks  runs  on  in 
immutable  lines  into  the  vista  of  the  eternities. 


202 


WOMEN  AS  AIOTHERS. 


203 


Yet — and  herein  is  mystery — the  mother  who  does  not,  with 
definite  purpose,  in  the  fear  of  God  and  love  of  her  kind,  prepare 
her  daughter  to  fulfill  this  mission,  loses  neither  caste  nor  favor 
among  her  congeners.  Our  protestant  sympathies  are  shed  waste- 
fully  upon  the  novice,  who,  by  the  rules  of  certain  conventional 
orders,  must  mingle  in  the  gayest  society  to  which  she  has  access, 
that  she  may  test  the  strength  of  her  resolution  by  temptation. 
The  lives  of  our  girls,  as  we  help  make  them,  are,  for  the  interim 
that  separates  the  school-room  from  the  bridal  altar,  a novitiate, 
rather  than  an  apprenticeship  for  the  noblest  work  ever  intrusted  to 
human  hands.  The  black  veil  typifies  the  marriage  ring.  In  her 
farewell  to  the  merry-go-round  of  parties,  balls,  and  frolics  generally, 
our  daughter  blows  the  foam  from  the  cup,  sparkles,  and  subsides 
into  stateliness  ; the  wine  of  existence  and  herself  “ settle  down.” 

Said  one  affectionate,  sensible  mother,  when  reminded  that 
practical  knowledge  of  the  duties  of  mistress,  wife,  and  mother 
would  make  the  prospective  matron’s  task  easier  in  days  to  come, 
But  what  time  have  girls  who  go  into  society,  for  regular  home 
occupation  ? What  with  a lunch,  and  high  tea,  and  an  evening 
party,  six  days  out  of  the  seven,  and  a german  every  week,  to  say 
nothing  of  theater,  opera  and  dinners,  they  are  driven  to  the  full 
measure  of  their  strength.  I see  the  force  of  what  you  say,  but 
where  is  the  leisure  to  come  from  ? ” 

I do  not  essay  to  answer  this  query.  The  life  of  the  popular 
“ society  girl  ” is  as  wearing  to  the  nervous  forces  as  that  of  the 
“ variety  ” actress,  and  she  “ goes  off”  under  the  strain  quite  as  fast 
as  does  the  painted  dancer  and  vocalist.  The  youth  who  is  her 
favorite  partner  abates  not  a whit  of  his  daily  labor  on  the  morrow, 
most  of  which  she  spends  in  bed,  that  she  may  freshen  up  by 
evening.  What  is  her  business  is  his  recreation.  By  the  time  they 
join  hands  for  the  minuet  of  working-day  living,  he  has  come  to 


204 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


consider  tills  style  of  re-creating  liis  spirits  “a  liore,  yon  know,” 
and  is  glad  to  try  domesticity  as  a change.  In  entering  upon  their 
home-life,  she  begins  to  work,  he  to  rest.  It  ought  not,  he  thinks, 
to  tax  the  strength  of  a tolerably  healthy  woman  to  keep  a wcll- 
aj^pointed  flat  or  cottage  in  order,  and  direct  the  operations  of  one 
or  two  servants. 

When  the  sweet  voice  takes  a wiry  ring,  and  the  plait  between 
the  brows  becomes  a crease,  when  her  vivacious  chit-chat  degenerates 
into  a monologue  upon  housewifely  woes — her  spouse  is  naturally 
perplexed,  perhaps  impatient,  peradventnre,  even  slightly  contemp- 
tuous. He  had  thought  that  she  had  more  “ grit,”  and  some 
perception  of  the  serious  side  of  life.  How  in  the  name  of  precedent 
and  the  commonest  kind  of  common  sense,  can  the  poor  young  wife 
be  otherwise  than  disheartened  and  chronically  fatigued  ? A new 
set  of  mental  and  physical  muscles  are  brought  suddenly  into 
active  use.  The  breaking  into  harness  that  seemed  in  anticipation 
a novel  and  enticing  sport,  turns  out  to  be  compulsory  exercise. 
How  she  will  support  the  experience  depends  upon  her  moral  and 
bodily  staying-power. 

Before  the  tender  feet  of  the  over-wrought  creature  are  used  to  the 
shards  and  pit-falls  of  her  road,  a child  is  laid  in  her  arms.  As  a 
girl,  she  thought  and  talked  freely  of  probable  wifehood,  even 
pictured  to  herself  the  pretty  pomp  of  controlling  and  adorning  a 
home  of  her  own.  Thoughts  of,  and  preparations  for  the  one  great 
untransferable  Mission  of  woman,  as  hers,  would  have  been  unmaid- 
enly.  In  her  mental  schedule,  be  it  long  or  brief,  there  is  no  note 
of  the  necessity  or  even  expediency,  of  fitting  herself  in  health,  in 
knowledge,  in  discipline  of  spirit  and  temper,  for  the  maternal  office. 
She  knows  that  children  are  sent  to  most  married  people,  and 
that,  but  for  the  supply  of  new  material,  the  hnman  race  would 
become  extinct.  She  has  a nebulous  idea,  too,  that  the  training  of 


A.r?ci[  B/iBV  ** 


WOMEN  AS  MOTHERS. 


207 


infants  is  generally  the  mother’s  concern.  But  there  will  he  time 
enough  to  think  of  such  things  should  Providence  add  this  burden 
to  the  rest. 

So  the  months  wheel  by,  and  the  young  immortal  who,  through 
her  agency,  may  become  the  best  or  the  worst  man  of  his  age, 
lies  in  her  awkward  embrace,  his  feeble  life  hanging  upon  her  ignor- 
ance. Why  the  Allwise  Creator  should  send  babies  to  those  who 
know  as  much  about  taking  care  of  them  as  a peasant  Laplander  of 
the  precession  of  the  equinoxes,  is  a problem  reserved  for  the  clari- 
fied intellects  of  the  hereafter.  Now,  it  is  a dissected  theorem  with 
half  the  pieces  missing. 

“ I am  the  mother  of  an  immortal  being ! God  be  merciful  to 
me  a sinner ! ” is  the  entry  in  Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli’s  diary  when 
her  boy  was  born.  It  was  the  cry  of  the  human  and  the  maternal 
in  the  soul  of  her  who  frankly  confessed,  “ I now  know  all  the 
people  worth  knowing  in  America,  and  I find  no  intellect  compara- 
ble with  my  own.” 

Our  smaller-minded  (and  humbler)  mother  may  take  up  the 
lament,  according  to  her  individual  interpretation  of  its  meaning. 
Without  trenching  upon  debatable  ground,  may  one  whose  religion 
teaches  her  to  fill  her  own  sphere  to  the  round  outermost  verge 
before  aspiring  to  a higher,  point  the  dismayed  learner  to  the  fact 
hinted  at  a while  ago  ? We  will  grant,  for  courtesy’s  sake,  that  it 
is  in  admiration  of  the  masculine  half  of  the  man  created  in  our 
Maker’s  image  that  we  seek  to  stand  firmly  upon  his  level,  and,  our 
rights  unchallenged,  to  share  equally  in  his  honors  and  prizes. 
God  be  merciful  to  us  sinners  if  in  the  contest  we  trample  in  the 
mire  our  Koh-i-noor,  our  pearl  of  great  price,  which  man  could  not 
purchase  by  the  sale  of  all  he  possesses, — our  unique  of  Mother- 
hood 1 


Our  Baby. 

ONE  hears  every  day  an  immense  deal  of  wishy-washiness 
talked  by  callow  pessimists,  and  their  dyspeptic  elders,  of 
the  nnsatisfactoriness  of  life,  the  worse  than  uselessness 
of  living.  The  first-named  consider  it  knowing  to  be 
blase ^ the  latter  confound  ennui  and  experience.  The  world  is  a 
dear  and  bonny  home,  thanks  to  the  dear  Lord  who  made  it  so  very 
good  that  His  creatures  in  all  ages  have  not  been  able  to  spoil  it. 
Of  Queen-mother,  Nature,  it  may  be  said  that  as  custom  can  not 
stale  her  infinite  variety,  neither  can  ingratitude  chill  her  infinite 
kindness.  Each  spring-time  is  a resurrection  ; each  fruit-season 
brings  the  thrill  of  a pleasant  surprise  ; each  Christmas-tide  stirs 
our  souls  as  if  the  Birthday  of  birthdays — the  red  heart  of  all 
a-throb  with  living  fire  set  in  the  mid-breast  of  white  winter — were 
then  celebrated  for  the  first  time.  Still,  as  when  the  morning-stars 
chanted  the  completion  of  the  young  earth,  all  things  leave  the 
Father’s  hand  fair  and  new. 

Our  Baby  is,  to  whatsoever  home  he  may  come,  the  freshest, 
most  exhaustlessly  interesting  creation  the  angels  ever  lowered  to 
our  level. 

“ Come  away  ! ” said  a girl  pulling  at  her  friend’s  sleeve.  “You 
don’t  care  to  listen  to  that  pair  of  new  mothers.  They  are  only 
comparing  notes  and  asking  advice  about  their  lamblings.  I heard 


OUR  BABY. 


209 


one  say  just  now — ‘ I had  no  idea,  until  mine  came,  that  a child 
was  such  a solemn  responsibility.’  I always  stop  up  my  ears  and 
run  when  they  begin  that  sort  of  cant.” 

The  other  resisted. 

“ But  I do  care  to  hear  this  ! They  are  discussing  the  reform-' 
dress  for  infants— and  maybe  you  don’t  kuow  that  we  have  a baby 
—my  sister’s — -at  our  house  ? That  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world,  you  see.” 

With  the  tenancy  of  the  cradle  in  “ our  house,”  other  topics  be- 
sides the  reform-dress  start  suddenly  into  prominence.  We  never 
pass  a child  on  the  street  without  seeing  it.  The  gutter-baby,  pat- 
a-caking  mud-pies  on  the  curb-stone ; the  patrician  baby,  making 
round  eyes  at  the  little  Arab  through  the  carriage-window ; the 
sickly  baby,  the  healthy  baby,  pretty  babies,  and  homely  babies  (if 
such  exist),  all  pull  at  the  check-strings  of  our  hearts,  each  remind- 
ing us  in  some  way  of  the  tiny  bundle  of  warm  unconsciousness  at 
home,  lapped  in  love  and  fed  on  kisses.  We  loiter  before  windows 
which  display  baby  clothes ; emulate  the  sweet  nonsense  of  Trad- 
dles  and  his  “ dearest  girl,”  in  selecting  the  toys  we  will  buy  for  the 
boy  when  he  begins  to  take  notice.  When  caught  lingering  over 
school  catalogues,  we  blush  and  laugh  foolishly,  and  nobody  except 
his  father  and  mother  is  privy  to  the  secrets  of  the  savings-bank 
account  begun  in  his  own  name  when  he  was  a day  old.  “All  the 
difference  in  the  world  ? ” Yes  ! and  in  the  universe. 

Ours  is  always  a wonderful  baby.  I confess  to  a sensation  of 
chagrin  when  a young  mother  does  not  confess  this  directly,  or 
indirectly.  In  some  one  particular,  if  not  in  all,  he  resembles  no 
other  child  ever  born,  and  surpasses  the  rest  of  the  infant  creation. 

Many  years  ago  I witnessed  an  illustration  of  this  vicarious 
vanity  that  shocked  my  girlish  sense  of  fitness,  but  which  I recall 


210 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


now  with  reverence.  A neighbor’s  child  was,  as  the  old  wives 
insisted,  “ marked  ” by  a snake  on  which  the  mother  trod  in  the 
garden  three  months  before  it  was  born.  The  recollection  of  the 
deformed  baby  lent  an  awful  fascination  to  “ Elsie  Verner  ” when  I 
read  it,  twenty  years  afterward.  She  was  an  idiot  girl,  and  had 
never  walked,  when  she  died  at  the  age  of  six.  Her  skin  was  covered 
with  scales,  her  head  was  flat,  hen  eyes  were  narrow  and  black. 
Chancing  to  call  at  the  house  one  day,  I saw  the  poor  little  thing — 
usually  screened  from  curious  eyes — roll  and  wriggle  across  the 
floor  to  the  mother’s  feet,  and,  grasping  her  dress,  laugh  up  in  her 
face.  Such  a laugh  ! The  cleft  tongue  shot  out  with  a hiss : the 
forehead  receded  entirely  under  the  low  forelocks  ; the  eyes  gleamed 
— the  whole  effect  was  indescribably  revolting.  And  the  mother,  a 
handsome  woman  in  her  prime,  caught  up  the  animate  horror, 
covered  her  with  kisses,  and  called  her  the  “ dearest,  loveliest  rose- 
bud ever  made ! ” 

Our  baby  is  always  an  “ incomparable  sweet  angel,”  the  rose  of 
the  world.  The  divine  ingenuity  that  lays  up  against  his  coming 
such  store  of  mother-love,  does  not  over-estimate  the  prospective 
demand  upon  the  supply.  The  care  of  baby  takes  more  of 
mamma’s  time,  draws  more  heavily  upon  her  nerve-power  and 
physical  strength  than  all  her  other  duties  combined.  She  is  not 
her  own  property,  by  day  or  by  night.  There  are  as  many  anxious 
as  happy  thoughts  of  him.  She  is  never  quite  easy  when  he  is  out 
of  her  sight,  never  quiet  when  he  is  present,  unless  he  is  asleep, 
and  then  holds  her  breath  to  listen  for  his. 

All  this,  and  so  much  more  to  the  same  effect,  is  true  that  we 
declare  without  reservation,  that  the  active  business  of  motherhood 
gives  occupation  to  the  hands,  heart  and  head  of  any  one  woman. 
She  can  no  more  escape  the  weight,  than  can  her  husband  from  the 
burden  of  his  craft  or  profession.  The  one  is  to  her,  what  the  other 


r ■ 


»,  V 


OUR  BABY. 


213 


is  to  him.  This  is  the  kernel  of  our  “ talk.”  You,  discouraged 
mother, — bewailing  your  pinioned  hands  and  stagnating  mind, 
fretting  for  the  liberty  of  a toilless  girlhood,  for  the  gala-days  that 
are  no  more,  ready  to  cry  out  upon  marriage  as  thraldom,  and 
maternity  as  degradation — make  the  mistake  of  reversing  the  order 
of  duties.  Your  husband,  with  a jnster  sense  of  values,  resigns 
recreation,  when  prudence  bids  him  bide  by  the  stuff,  or  watch  over 
investments ; when  he  espies  a chance  to  make  money,  postpones 
to  a more  convenient  season  the  merry-making.  His  holidays  are 
sandwiched  between  so  many  weeks  that  he  almost  forgets  the 
flavor  of  one,  before  another  comes.  Should  he  complain,  you 
would  call  him  faint-hearted,  and  think  him  lazy. 

Yet  yours  is  the  nobler  and  far  more  important  work.  He 
makes  money  that  perishes  with  his  using  (and  other  people’s) . You 
make  men  and  women,  who  will  live  forever,  and,  through  all  that 
forever,  bear  the  imprint  yon  stamp  upon  them.  He  seeks  fame  that 
will  be  his  during  his  life-time.  You  are  carving  tablets  for  the 
never-ending  years.  The  sublime  patience  of  him  who  “ painted  for 
posterity  ” should  be  in  you  informed  by  a more  sanguine  faith, 
a wider  and  clearer  outlook.  None  of  us  can,  if  only  for  our  own 
sake,  afford  to  slur  over  one  of  the  duties  that  develop  into  more 
distinct  and  grander  proportions  with  our  children’s  growth.  In 
living  their  lives  over  with  them,  we  keep  ourselves  young,  yet  gain 
a serener  dignity  of  womanhood.  Instead  of  growing  intellectually 
rusty,  we  must  avail  ourselves  of  every  means  within  our  rauge  of 
studying  with  and  for  them.  The  true-hearted  and  far-sighted 
mother  keeps  a place  open  in  society  to  which  she  may  return  with 
her  young  daughter,  when  nursery  cares  are  over.  vShe  sees  mercy 
in  sharp  experiences  by  which  she  has  learned  to  save  her  boys  and 
girls  from  like  blunders  and  like  sorrows  : that  she  may  teach  them 
wisdom,  makes  herself  wise. 


214 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


“ It  is  not,”  writes  aniotlierof  the  death  of  her  first-horii, — “ it  is 
not  for  the  day-old  baby  that  I mourn,  but  the  little  one  who  was  to 
keep  me  from  feeling  lonely  when  my  hiisband  is  not  with  me  ; who 
was  to  run  down  the  street  to  meet  papa  when  he  comes  home,  the 
boy  with  whom  I was  to  study  his  lessons  over  the  winter  fire,  and 
whose  summer  sports  I was  to  share ; the  college-lad,  of  whose 
honors  I should  be  so  gloriously  proud,  the  man  whose  arm  would 
be  his  old  mother’s  support.  All  these  I have  laid  away  under  the 
snow  to-day,  with  the  wee  creature  that  never  opened  its  eyes  upon 
mine ! ” 

Such  are  the  stages  in  the  forward  life,  the  renewed  youth  of 
every  mother  who  still  holds  to  her  breast  a living  child.  Her  off- 
spring are  her  reward  and  her  monument. 

If  this  life  be  not  worth  living,  none  is. 


Vagaries  of  the  American  Kitchen. 


5WENTY-SEVEN  religions  have  I found  in  this  country ! 
writes  a French  tourist,  “ and  but  one  gravy  ! ” 

Had  the  satirist  been  familiar  with  the  machinery  of  the 
average  American  kitchen,  he  might  have  added — “ And 
that  is  made  in  a frying-pan ! ” 

Our  housewife  may  be  unversed  in  the  matter  of  steamers, 
braising  and  fish-kettles.  The  chances  are  as  ten  to  one  that  she 
never  owned  a gridiron,  and  would  laugh  a patent  “poacher”  to 
shrillest  scorn.  Were  any,  or  all  of  these  given  to  her,  and  their 
uses  enlarged  upon  intelligently  and  enthusiastically,  she  would 
shake  an  unconvinced  head  and  brandish  her  frying-pan  in  the 
face  of  anxious  innovators  and  disgusted  reformers.  A convenient 
implement  ? Hear  her  testimony  and  behold  her  practice  ! 

For  breakfast,  her  family  is  nourished,  be  it  winter  or  summer, 
upon  fried  bacon,  or  salt  pork,  fried  mush  and  fried  potatoes.  The 
bacon  is  cooked  first ; done  to  a slow  crisp,  and  set  aside  to  “ sizzle  ” 
out  any  remaining  flavor  of  individuality,  while  she  gets  the  mnsli 
ready.  The  meat  comes  out,  and  the  slices  of  stiffened  dough  go 
in,  first  to  absorb,  then  to  be  (still  slowly)  cooked  by  the  hot  fat. 
All  the  fat  is  soaked  up  before  the  cold,  boiled  potatoes,  cut  into 
clammy  “ chunks,”  are  put  in.  In  fact,  the  last  relay  of  mush  is 


2i6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


scorched  to  the  bottom  of  the  pan,  and  the  bits  of  pork,  clinging  to 
the  sides,  are  unsavory  cinders.  A great  spoonful  of  lard  sets  all 
that  to  rights,  and  is  just  melted  when  the  potatoes  are  immersed 
in  it.  Browning,  under  this  process,  is  an  impossibility,  but  a few 
outside  pieces  burn  satisfactorily,  and  the  rest  smoke  as  the  con- 
tents of  the  invaluable  utensil  are  dished.  Breakfast  is  ready.  If 
the  wheels  of  her  domestic  organization  are  not  greased  into  fair 
running  order,  the  fault  is  not  hers,  but  that  of  the  recalcitrant 
stomachs  that  will  not  assimilate  “ good,  wholesome  food.” 

“ Our  men-folks  set  so  much  store  by  a warm,  substantial  break- 
fast, that  I make  a matter  of  duty  of  getting  it  np  for  them,”  says 
the  dear  woman,  complacently,  wiping  the  frying-pan,  and  hanging 
it  where  it  will  be  “ handy  ” to  fry  steak-and-onions  for  dinner,  and 
to  frizzle  smoked  beef  or  cod-fish  at  supper-time. 

In  proportion  to  “ our  men-folks’  ” appreciation  of  hot,  nourish- 
ing viands,  is  our  house-mother’s  relish  of  a “ comfortable  cup  of 
tea.”  The  black  earthen,  or  tin  teapot  stands  on  the  stove  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  day,  and  rarely  has  a chance  to  be  scalded  and 
dried  in  the  sunshine,  as  every  vessel  in  which  tea  is  brewed  should 
be  at  least  once  in  twenty-four  hours.  So  soon  as  the  water  in  the 
kettle  nears  the  boiling  point,  after  the  morning  fire  is  lighted,  the 
handful  of  tea-leaves,  thrown  hap-hazard  into  the  bottom  of  the  pot, 
is  hopelessly  drowned,  and  the  decoction  set  where  it  will  gradually 
repair  the  lack  of  heat  in  the  water.  From  steeping,  it  passes  to 
simmering — from  hissing  to  bubbling.  The  maker  thereof  must 
have  her  favorite  drink,  “just  off  the  boil.”  Nor  would  she  recognize 
it  without  the  harsh,  herby  taste  acquired  by  the  cooking,  which 
refined  connoisseurs  would  brand  as  “ murdering.”  The  process  of 
tea-making  on  the  breakfast  or  supper-table  ; the  pretty  array  of  urn, 
spirit-lamp  and  “ cozy  ” she  would  condemn  as  “ fashionable  foolery.” 
The  enjoyment  of  the  delicate  aroma  of  the  beverage,  newly-made 


1 


VAGARIES  OF  THE  AMERICAN  KITCHEN.  219 


by  pouring  boiling  water  upon  just-moistened  leaves,  and  never  set 
over  tbe  fire,  she  would  stigmatize  decidedly  as  “ downright  affecta- 
tion ; ’’  and  associate  it,  by  some  subtle  demonstration,  with  the 
hard  times  and  increased  price  of  living.  She  takes  her  tea  as  her 
mother  did,  and  she  likes  her  “ rye’n  Indian  bread  with  some  sub- 
stance into  it — not  as  light  as  vanity  ! ” 

Upon  stew-pan  and  soup-kettle,  she  looks  with  almost  as  much 
disfavor.  If  the  meat  she  bakes  and  fries  be  tough,  she  blames  the 
butcher.  Somebody  must  eat  the  coarser  portions  of  ox  or  sheep, 
and  people  in  moderate  circumstances  cannot  fare  sumptuously 
every  day.  In  this  spirit  of  equitable  economy,  she  buys  rump- 
steak,  chuck-rib  or  osseous  chops,  and  commits  the  roasted  or 
grilled  leather-and-fat  to  the  digestive  apparatus  of  husband  and 
offspring  with  calm  fatalism,  truly  edifying  to  behold.  If  the  eaters 
develop  a tendency  to  diseases  of  the  alimentary  organs,  she  can 
discourse  as  piously  upon  ‘‘  providential  visitations,’^  as  any  erudite 
College  Don  over  the  slaughter  done  in  dormitories  and  clubs  by 
sewer  gas. 

Soups  she  reckons  as  “ slops,”  “ Unless,”  as  one  of  the  guild 
said  the  other  day,  “ the  meat  and  vegetables  be  left  in.  Then, 
a pot  of  rich  soup  is  a dinner  by  itself.” 

“ Rich  ” being  the  synonym  of  greasy. 

Tell  her,  if  you  do  not  mind  squandering  time  and  breath,  that 
ihe  chops  which,  served  by  her,  are  a ghastly  waste  of  bone,  gristle, 
skin,  burned  tallow,  and  desiccated  lean  meat — would  feed  her  brood 
almost  luxuriously  were  she  to  trim  them  neatly,  stew  very  slowly, 
add  to  the  cooled  and  skimmed  gravy  (keeping  the  meat  hot  over 
boiling  water)  a dash  of  piquant  catsup  or  tomato  sauce,  and,  having 
thickened  it  with  browned  flour  and  boiled  it  for  one  minute,  return 
the  same  with  the  meat  to  the  fire  for  another  minute  before  serving 
— krown,  tender  and  savory.  You  will  receive  for  your  benevolent 


220 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


officioiisness,  a stony  stare  of  indifference,  or  be  told  flatly  that  life 
is  too  short  to  be  spent  in  such  “ notional  doctoring  up  of  the  . 
wholesome  victuals  the  Lord  has  made.”  In  illustration  of  which 
aphorism,  she  will  go  on  with  the  interrupted  conglomeration  of 
pork-fat,  cold  water  and  second-rate  flour,  known  to  her  and 
thousands  like  unto  her  as  “ family  pastry.” 

When  lard,  flour  and  water  have  been  kneaded  into  a tenacious 
composite,  it  will  be  spread  upon  plates  and  stratified  variously 
with  insipid  custard,  or  half-sweetened  fruit,  or  a plutonic  mixture 
of  molasses,  chopped  peel,  pulp  and  acid,  popular  under  the  name 
of  “ lemon-tart.” 

Profoundly  ignorant,  or  reckless  of  the  truth  that. grease  is  not 
gravy,  and  is,  in  itself  an  abomination  to  well-ordered  stomachs, 
she  serves  with  roast  beef,  mutton,  veal,  poultry,  a bowl  of  brown 
precipitate,  overlaid  by  several  inches  of  clear  oil,  and  looks  con- 
temptuously at  the  guest  who  prefers  politely  to  take  his  meat,  as 
Southern  children  say  of  butterless  and  sugarless  bread — “ dry,  so.” 
When  the  infrequent  soup  makes  its  appearance  upon  her  board, 
oleaginous  islets  and  continents  swim  languidly  upon  the  surface, 
coat  the  spoons  and  tongues  of  those  who  partake  of  the  unskimmed, 
unstrained  mess  of  pottage.  The  colander — the  most  efficient  check 
upon  that  Lord  of  Misrule,  the  frying-pan — inasmuch,  as  by  its  use, 
some  of  the  reek  and  drip  may  be  got  rid  of  before  the  food  is 
served — is  seldom  in  our  house-wife’s  hands,  except  when  squash 
or  pumpkin-pies  are  to  be  made.  Least  of  all,  does  she  think  of 
employing  it  in  serving  vegetables.  Beans,  peas,  onions,  succotash, 
beets,  etc.,  go  to  table  half-submerged  in  the  liquor  in  which 
they  were  boiled ; a little  salt,  butter  and  pepper,  stirred  into  the 
floating  mass,  constitute  the  “ dressing.” 

She  leaves  esculents  undrained,  and  turns  washed  cups,  saucers, 
dishes,  even  glass  and  silver,  upside-down  upon  tray  or  kitchen 


VAGARIES  OF  THE  AMERICAN  KITCHEN.  221 


table,  “ to  dreen  ” before  wiping  tbem.  The  process  saves  time  and 
towels.  Her  mother  “ washed  up  ” dishes,  in  this  manner,  and  her 
mother’s  daughter  sets  her  shrewd  face,  like  the  Jamestown  Tower, 
or  Plymouth  Rock,  against  new-fangleism  in  her  dominions. 

Even  in  the  matter  of  toasting  bread,  she  is  incorruptible  in  her 
devotion  to  traditional  usages.  • Explain — when  she  inveighs  against 
the  “ wicked  waste  ” of  paring  your  slices  of  stale  bread — that 
they  will  not  curl  or  warp,  if  the  crust  be  first  removed,  and  that 
nobody  cares  to  eat  toast-crusts.  She  always  has — ergo,  she  always 
will — cut  her  fresh  loaf  into  thin  rounds,  and  char  one  side  of  each, 
while  the  other  is  palely  smoked,  when  “ people  take  a notion 
to  a bit  of  toast  with  their  tea.”  To  her,  “ it  seems  like  sick-room 
feed.” 

For  such  provisions,  we  need  hardly  say,  she  has  no  respect ; 
for  their  preparation,  no  vocation.  I honestly  believe  that,  in  our 
land,  where  humanity  and  plenty  walk  hand-in-hand,  and  home-loves 
flourish  as  they  do  nowhere  else  on  earth,  thousands  of  young  chil- 
dren and  invalids  perish  yearly  for  the  want  of  suitable  nutriment. 
I could  fill  many  chapters  with  the  truthful  details  of  ignorance  and 
carelessness  on  the  part  of  those  who  pride  themselves  upon  their 
skill  as  nurses,  who  enjoy  the  reputation  of  being  excellent  mothers 
and  housekeepers. 

Do  you  ask,  thoughtful  reader,  where  is  the  remedy  for  these 
obstinate  vagaries — these  fallacies  to  which  our  countrywomen,  as  a 
body,  give  the  prominence  of  principles  ! 

I was  more  hopeful,  ten  years  ago,  than  I am  now,  of  possible 
reformation  among  the  reigning  autocrats  of  the  culinary  depart- 
ment. “ Mother  ” is  joined  to  her  sooty  idol,  the  Frying-Pan  ; 
to  her  family  pie  crust ; to  boiled  tea ; to  undrained  beets,  and 
drained  china.  She  will  go  on  expressing  and  dispensing  oils,  until 
she  sleeps  with  her  mothers,  who  “ always  did  just  so.” 


222 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


The  one  ray  of  light  penetrating  the  smoky  interior  of  the 
National  Cuisine,  comes  from  the  fact  that  our  young  girls — the 
wives  and  housekeepers  of  the  next  generation — are  beginning  to 
look  upon  cookery  as  a practical  science,  and  dietetics  as  a serious 
study  ; however  refined  and  accomplished  they  may  be,  are  opening 
their  eyes  to  the  truth  that  proficiency  in  housewifery  is  a thing 
to  be  desired,  to  make  one  wise  and  her  kind  healthy  and 
comfortable. 

To  their  clear  common  sense,  their  affectionate  zeal  and  busy 
hands,  we  commit  the  kitchen  of  the  future. 


0 


Breakfast  as  it  Should  Be. 

Breakfast  may  be  considered  the  one  fixed  fact  among 
our  movable  feasts,  tbe  very  names  of  which  are  varied  by 
the  fluctuation  of  the  social  barometer.  Jones,  as  a 
thriving  mechanic  or  smart  clerk,  living  in  a nice  three- 
story  brick  on  a side  street,  has  a good  dinner  of  two  courses  at  one 
o’clock,  and  “ something  hearty  ” with  his  seven  o’clock  tea.  Mel- 
chius  Jones,  Esq.,  manufacturer  or  merchant  prince  and  millionaire7 
gets  his  luncheon  at  a city  restaurant,  and  subsides  into  the  bosom 
of  his  family  around  a gas-lighted  dinner-table,  so  crowded  with 
glass,  silver  and  flowers,  that  meats  and  vegetables  must  be  served 
from  the  side-board. 

Fashion  may,  and  does  push  the  morning  meal  further  on  into 
the  day,  in  households  where  leisure  and  luxury  have  succeeded 
to  the  hurry  and  toil  of  earlier  years.  But  it  is  breakfast  still,  a 
family  repast,  and  a bountiful  one,  that  refuses  to  be  materially 
modified  by  the  pressure  of  imported  ideas  and  habits  which  are 
rapidly  denationalizing  our  homes. 

The  free-and-easiness  of  the  English  breakfast  hour — the  huge 
cold  rounds  and  joints  and  game-pies  on  the  side-table  for  the  strong, 
the  toast-and-tea  for  the  weak ; the  sitting-down  and  the  rising-up 
at  the  convenience  of  the  several  members  of  the  company — impress 
the  Yankee  housewife  as  unseemly  and  shiftless.  She  will  not 

72$ 


224 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


have  “ things  ” standing  about  all  hours  of  the  clay,  nor  would 
American  (imported)  servants  endure  the  imj^osition  upon  time  and 
service. 

But  it  seems  strange  at  the  first  blush,  that  the  continental 
breakfast,  simple,  inexpensive  and  convenient,  has  not  been  eagerly 
adopted  by  us.  A hundred  jaded  women, — sipping  chocolate  in 
Parisian  and  Italian  hotels,  and  seeing  that  the  family  appetites  are 
satisfied  by  crisp  rolls,  fresh  eggs  and  butter,  with  an  occasional 
treat  of  honey  or  marmalade  for  the  children — brighten  into  anima- 
tion with  the  resolve  to  introduce  the  like  order  in  our  transatlantic 
homes.  Ninety-nine  of  the  hundred  make  the  experiment  upon 
their  return.  We  have  never  known  an  exception  to  the  general 
failure  of  the  pretty  plan.  In  most  instances,  the  rebellion  begins  in 
the  lower  house.  Our  “ help  ” cannot  work,  they  assert,  without  meat 
twice  a day,  at  least.  Across  the  sea,  they  labored  doubly  as  hard, 
and  lived  upon  potatoes,  polenta^  or  black  bread  and  sour  beer.  In 
our  climate  they  must  be  fed  upon  the  fat  of  a more  goodly  land 
than  they  had  dreamed  of  before  touching  our  shores,  or  muscles 
grew  flaccid,  bones  soften,  and  stomachs  collapse. 

We  may  temper  the  heat  of  our  indignant  contempt  for  such 
flagitious  affectation  by'asking  ourselves  why  the  crusty  roll,  single 
cup  of  coffee  or  chocolate,  and  boiled  egg,  no  longer  upbear  our 
strength  and  spirits  until  the  next  meal  is  served.  Why,  by  degrees, 
the  bit  of  toasted  bacon,  dear  to  the  English  heart,  the  Scot’s  oat- 
meal, the  Cuban’s  orange,  find  their  way  to  the  otherwise  nieagerly- 
furnished  board  ? Why,  as  the  days  shorten  and  the  cold  strength- 
ens, the  children  clamor  for  buckwheats  and  maple  syrup,  and  papa 
endorses  the  draught  upon  caterer  and  cook. 

PaLcrJamilias  wastes  no  time  in  dissertation  upon  climatic  in- 
fluence, or  the  tyranny  of  custom. 


BREAKFAST  AS  IT  SHOULD  BE. 


225 


“ I am  a practical  man,”  lie  says,  “ who  does  half  a day’s  work 
before  the  French  banker  or  advocate  goes  to  his  office.  Too  busy 
to  suspend  operations  at  half-past  eleven  or  twelve  o’clock,  for  the 
dejeuner  a la  fourchette  that  supplements  his  eight  o’clock  coffee 
and  roll.  1 don’t  argue  nor  expatiate,  I only  know  that  in  order  to 
do  an  American  citizen’s  work,  I must  be  well  fed,  and  that,  without 
a substantial  breakfast,  I am  used-up  by  noon — an  exhausted 
receiver — sir ! ” 

The  question  resolves  itself  in  his  mind  into  a clear  case  of 
supply  and  demand.  The  climate  may  have  something  to  do  with 
it.  Habit  probably  has  more.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  engine  plays 
all  the  time  under  a full  head  of  steam,  and  boiler  and  fire  must  be 
fed  generously.  We  do  well  to  imitate  the  practical  in  accepting 
the  American  breakfast  as  it  is,  because  it  is.  Our  suggested 
reforms  will  not  clear  the  table  of  a single  dish,  without  offering  a 
substitute.  Because  it  is  a substantial  meal,  it  should  be  tempting, 
nourishing  and  eaten  deliberately.  As  a family  gathering,  the 
party  should  be  cheerful  and  at  ease.  As  the  initial  repast, — the 
breakfast  of  the  new  day  should  beget  comfort  and  harmony,  put 
mind  and  body  in  tune  for  labor  which  ought  to  be  worship. 
Whereas,  the  plain  truth  is  that  the  disregard  of  some,  or  all  of 
these  conditions  is  a notorious  fact  in  most  dwellings,  even  among 
our  well-to-do  and  wealthy  classes,  and  their  observance  in  our 
homes  remarkable  by  reason  of  the  rarity  of  the  spectacle. 

Goblin  Care  enters  the  chamber  of  the  dual  head  of  the  house- 
hold, at  the  turn  of  the  morning  tide,  when  the  waves  of  physical 
life  pulse  most  feebly.  He  takes  the  house-mother  by  the  hand  as 
she  starts  from  her  latest  and  most  delicious  doze  to  hurry  the  tardy 
cook.  He  mounts  and  fastens  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  practical 
man,  who  must  be  at  warehouse,  office  or  factory  at  eight-or  maybe 


226 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


nine  o’clock.  Wliatever  the  hour,  it  must  be  “ sharp  ” upon  him 
before  he  brushes  his  teeth,  and  plunges  his  face  into  cold  water. 

He  is  in  the  middle  of  next  week,  by  the  time  he  kicks  aside 
slippers  for  boots,  and  wonders  audibly, — “ if  they  arc  going  to  keep 
a fellow  waiting  for  his  breakfast.”  The  morning  paper  lies  at  his 
plate.  Electric  shocks  of  stock-market  news  contract  windpipe,  and 
agitate  diaphragm  as  he  bolts  breakfast,  and  gulps  down  coffee. 
Political  excitement  congests  the  stomach-coats  and  transmutes 
buttered  buckwheats  into  hot  lead.  Engrossed  in  the  world’s  news, 
brought  to  his  door  with  the  rising  of  the  sun,  he  throws  liquids 
and  solids  into  the  palpitating  interior  of  the  machine,  with  little 
more  thought  of  order  and  assimilation  than  the  stoker  exercises 
who  “ chunks  ” the  black  lumps  into  the  fire-chamber,  and  then 
bangs  the  door. 

Bridget,  marketing,  shopping  and  dress-making,  sit  heavily 
upon  the  soul  of  wife  and  mother.  The  children  hate  early  break- 
fasts, and  are  served  with  the  de-appetizing  sauce  of  acerb  rebuke 
for  indolence  as  they  straggle  in.  The  dispersion  to  the  different 
spheres  of  action  is  a disorderly  rout,  and  the  poor  woman  left  to 
hold  the  fort,  cogitates,  by  turns,  upon  the  cause  of  the  dyspeptic 
qualms  that  add  physical  to  mental  disquiet,  and  the  “ crossness  of 
everybody  in  the  morning.” 

“ It  is  such  a comfort  to  get  breakfast  over ! ” is  her  one  solace. 

Our  busy  American  citizen  may  demand,  as  a vital  need,  his 
substantial  daily  meal.  He  does  not  enjoy  it.  The  running  of  a 
vast  majority  of  human  animals  upon  the  daily  course  is  like  that 
of  spavined  horses. 

We  are  stiff  and  sore  when  first  led  from  the  stall,  but  warm  to 
our  work  and  into  suppleness  with  judicious  management.  Who 
of  us  has  not  experienced  the  desire  to  turn  the  day  hind-part-before, 
setting  bodily  and  mental  depression,  with  the  yawning,  and  peev- 


OUR  AMERICAN  CITIZEN  AT  BREAKFAST. 


BREAKFAST  AS  IT  SHOULD  BE. 


229 


ishness,  and  gone-ness  that  expresses  this,  at  the  latter  end 
when  bed  and  slumber  would  be  the  natural  and  speedy  cure  ? 
Who  practices  the  philosophy  of  gentle  lubrication  and  moderate 
movement,  leading  up  to  steady  labor  which  we  might  learn  from 
a doltish  groom  ? 

The  breakfast  table  should  be  a study — hygienic  and  aesthetic 
— with  those  who  would  profit  thereby.  Conspicuous  among  its 
appointments,  set  the  fruit  basket.  For  those  whose  stomachic 
idiosyncracies  do  not  forbid  this  order  of  course,  let  oranges,  grapes, 
bananas  in  winter,  and  summer  fruits  in  their  season,  precede  the 
weightier  matters  of  a meal. 

There  is  amelioration  of  harsh  business,  if  not  refinement  of 
tone,  in  the  sight  and  manipulation  of  the  gracious  gifts  direct  from 
the  Maker’s  hands.  The  juices  are  a grateful  assuasive,  and  a 
stimulus  to  digestion.  Oatmeal  porridge,  soaked  over  night  and 
steamed  in  the  morning  to  a smooth  jelly — mollient,  not  drastic — 
then  drenched  with  cream,  may  succeed  the  fruit,  or  be  served  as  a 
dessert.  The  Briton’s  toasted  bacon  is  a potent  persuasive  to  reluc- 
tant appetite.  Fried  potatoes,  thin  as  a shaving,  hot,  and  so  dry  as 
not  to  soil  the  enveloping  napkin,  come  delicately  and  seductively 
into  line.  Let  the  bread  be  sweet  and  light,  the  butter  above  sus- 
picion, coffee  and  tea  fresh  and  fragrant.  By  the  time  the  skirmish- 
ing is  over — and  the  process  should  not  be  rapid — the  business  of 
the  hour  is  fairly  begun.  Now  should  the  practical  man  be  built 
up  with  boiled  eggs,  or  omelette,  or  beefsteak,  or  mutton-chops 
(always  broiled  !\  or  chickens,  stewed  or  broiled,  or  savory  ragouts, 
or  sausage — the  list  is  long  and  attractive  to  eye  and  imagination. 
The  second  cup  of  hot  coffee  is  here  in  order.  And — not  until  hun- 
ger has  been  appeased  by  deliberate  and  careful  mastication  of  these 
substantial  edibles — should  the  morning  paper  be  unfolded.  Wives 
and  children  have  reason  for  their  bitter  aversion  to  the  triple 


230 


hoUvSp:  and  home. 


sheet,  behind  the  crackling  abomination  of  whose  folds  the  lord  of 
the  home  devours  his  provender.  If  the  ill-used  stomach  could 
speak,  its  verdict  would  accord  with  their  condemnation. 

She  who  dignifies  the  common  uses  and  needs  of  life  into 
humanizing.  Christianizing  influence  upon  those  whose  daily  min- 
ister she  is,  serves  her  generation  well,  although  her  apparent 
sphere  be  no  broader  than  her  Breakfast  Table. 


The  Tea-Table. 


Yorkshire  people,  m those  days,  took  their  tea  around 
the  table,  sitting  well  to  it,  with  their  knees  duly  intro- 
duced under  the  mahogany.  It  was  essential  to  have  a 
multitude  of  plates  of  bread  and  butter,  varied  in  sorts,  and 
plentiful  in  quantity.  It  was  thought  proper,  too,  that  on  the  cen- 
ter plate  should  stand  a glass  dish  of  marmalade.  Among  the 
viands  was  expected  to  be  found  a small  assortment  of  cheese-cakes 
and  tarts.  If  there  was,  also,  a plate  of  thin  slices  of  pink  ham, 
garnished  with  green  parsley — so  much  the  better.” 

Thus  writes  Charlotte  Bronte,  of  the  Yorkshire  teas  of  eighty 
years  ago.  Word  for  word,  we  may  apply  the  description  to  the 
third  and  latest  meal  in  the  majority  of  the  houses  of  what  may  be 
called  our  “ solid  middle-class  Americans,” — people  who  are  doing 
well,  and  like  to  live  well.  Only,  we  must  substitute  for  the 
“ multitude  of  plates  of  bread  and  butter,”  the  array  of  saucerlings 
gathered  about  the  central  trenchers  from  which  our  citizen  and  his 
family  take  their  food.  If  the  board  is  spread  for  “ company,”  the 
number  of  these  increases  in  proportion  to  the  importance  borrowed 
by  the  occasion  from  the  quality  of  the  guest  and  the  desire  of  the 
hosts  to  set  out  a handsome  entertainment.”  Apple-sauce  in  one. 


232 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


a spoonful  of  cold  pudding  or  custard  in  a second,  lettuce,  or  other 
succulent  salad  in  a third,  flank  the  good-liver’s  plate  at  his  ordinary 
supper. 

When  there  are  invited  participants,  one  often  sees  marmalade, 
chicken  or  lobster  salad,  a trifle  of  blancmange,  braiidied  peaches, 
and,  in  conclusion,  ice-cream,  in  as  many  china  or  glass  receptacles 
— not  one  being  removed  to  make  room  for  the  others.  The  amused 
perplexity  of  him  who  is  not  to  this  fashion  born,  as  he  beholds 
himself  gradually  environed  by  these  outposts  in  the  contest  waged 
against  hunger,  is  only  exceeded  by  the  inflexible  resolve  of  the 
directors  of  the  campaign  that  the  last  and  the  least  of  these  shall 
be  honored.  In  their  season,  oysters,  stewed,  fried  and  scalloped — 
chicken,  broiled,  roasted  or  fricasseed  ; a choice  cut  of  salmon  ; a 
big  roe  shad, — is  the  bulwark  at  the  lower  end  of  the  board.  Pota- 
toes, tomatoes,  cucumbers  and  green  peas  skirmish  up  one  line  of 
eaters,  and  down  another,  while  coffee-urn  and  tea-pot  are  fixed 
towers  of  strength  and  observation  at  head-quarters. 

Such,  and  often  more  abundant  and  incongruous,  is  the  evening 
banquet  to  which  neighbors  and  such  strangers  as  the  master  and 
mistress  would  convert  into  acquaintances,  are  bidden  in  the 
formula : — “ Come  around  on  Thursday  evening,  and  take  a social 
cup  of  tea  with  us.  Very  informally,  you  know.  Our  tea-hour  is 
half-past  six.”  South  of  Philadelphia,  they  ask  you  for  half-past 
seven,  and  call  it  “ supper.” 

“ In  point  of  fact,”  as  Cousin  Feenix  would  say,  it  is  neither 
one  nor  the  other.  As  an  amplification — a mammoth  and  illustrated 
edition  of  our  Yorkshire  and  American  family-tea — it  is  an  over- 
grown caricature,  swollen  out  of  all  likeness  to  simple  cheer  and 
cosy  comfort.  It  is  too  early  and  not  sufiiciently  elegant  to  rank 
with  the  formal  “ party  supper.”  It  is  much  too  elaborate  to  pass 
for  the  English  fourth  meal  of  the  day  (sometimes  the  fifth,  if  five 


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233 


o’clock  tea  be  reckoned  in).  This  fifth  repast  consists,  among  the 
middle  and  lower  classes,  of  cold  meat,  pickles,  beer  and  cheese. 
The  higher  stay  stomach  and  nerve  at  ten,  eleven,  twelve  o’clock, 
with  salads,  cold  game,  wines,  and  perhaps  one  spicy  eritree^  such  as 
deviled  lobster,  or  sweetbreads  stewed  in  champagne.  Our  national 
“ big  tea  ” — no  other  title  suits  it  so  well — costs  as  much  in  money 
and  labor  as  would  a pretty  little  dinner,  with  five  or  six  courses, 
duly  arranged  and  served.  The  machinery,  ill-adapted  for  the 
weight  it  has  to  carry,  works  awkwardly.  Except  to  those  whose 
primary  object,  always  and  everywhere,  whenever  their  knees  are 
“ duly  introduced  under  the  mahogany,”  is  the  gratification  of 
appetite,  the  entertainment  is  a baleful  weariness,  the  happiest 
moment  of  which  is  that  when  the  back  is  turned  upon  the  dis- 
orderly table  where  meats  and  sweets  are  jumbled  without  plan  or 
taste. 

It  is  time  that  the  slowest  learner  among  those  who  serve  and 
those  who  partake,  should  understand  that  the  success  of  feasts,  in 
our  day,  from  the  humblest  to  the  highest,  depends  upon  a judicious 
display  of  a few  really  excellent  dishes ; that  the  elegance  of  a 
bill-of-fare  consists  no  more  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  therein 
set  forth. 

The  family  tea — as  such — is  actually  a more  choice  affair  to 
which  to  invite  your  friend,  or  your  friend’s  friend,  than  the  mongrel 
“ spread  ” we  have  described.  Whatever  may  have  been  the  haste 
and  huddle  of  breakfast  and  the  early  dinner,  there  is  surely  no 
excuse,  at  the  decline  of  day,  for  a table-cloth  awry,  and  a clutter  of 
table  appointments.  With  the  afternoon  dresses  of  “ mother  and 
the  girls,”  the  faintest  sense  of  what  is  fit  and  fair  would,  one 
might  imagine,  suggest  a touch  of  festal  order  in  drapery,  china 
and  glass,  and  something  of  the  incense  of  welcome  in  what  is 
made  ready  for  the  tired  man  of  the  house. 


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On  tlie  contrary,  who  does  not  know  by  heart  (or  by  stomach) 
the  order  complacently  recognized  by  onr  model  cottager  as  the 
regulation  thing  ? Imprimis,  two  plates  of  dry  bread  set  precisely 
opposite  to  one  another ; item,  a dish  of  chipped  beef  at  the  foot, 
facing  the  tea-tray  at  the  top  ; the  glass  bowl  of  canned  or  preserved 
fruit,  or,  more  probably,  the  incorrigible  national  apple-sauce,  set  in 
a right  line  with  the  butter-dish  and  cake-basket.  In  a sun-set 
saunter  through  a street  of  trim,  modern  houses,  “ built  with 
especial  reference  to  the  wants  of  small  families,”  one  can  guess 
with  tolerable  certainty,  from  the  smokeless  chimneys  and  bowed 
dining-room  windows,  as  well  as  from  the  absence  of  all  appetizing 
odors  in  the  cooling  outer  air,  within  how  many  domiciles  this  prim 
display  awaits  the  master’s  home-coming.  Let  every  housewife  be 
a law  unto  herself  in  the  ordering  of  the  one  social  and  leisurely 
meal  of  the  trio  she  has  to  prepare  daily.  Abolish  routine,  and 
study  surprises.  Toss  up  an  omelette  on  Monday,  garnished  with 
parsley;  mollify  the  flinty  slices  of  Tuesday’s  stale  bread  into 
cream-toast,  and  reserve  enough  of  Wednesday’s  morning  baking 
to  make  a loaf  of  French  rolls  for  tea.  Chops  or  a steak  will  jump 
with  the  husbandly  mood  on  Thursday,  while  Friday’s  flsh-market 
will  divide  your  mind  by  an  embarrassment  of  riches  that  would 
furnish  forth  savorily  the  else  scanty  board. 

If  love  and  ingenuity  can  vary,  each  evening,  the  expression  of 
the  common  joy  at  the  return  of  spouse  and  parent  to  hearth  and 
home,  affection  should  go  to  school  to  cunning  when  into  Saturday 
night  steals,  as  through  crevices  in  the  door  the  morrow  will  unbar, 
a breath  of  Sabbath  rest  and  holy  joys. 

“ We  always  use  our  best  china  on  Sunday  nights.  It  was  my 
mother’s ; blue,  with  white  lilies-of-the-valley  on  it,”  said  the 
so-called  prosaic  mother  of  a large  family.  “ It’s  foolish,  I suppose ; 


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237 

but  I Have  a fancy  that  we  are  all  better,  as  well  as  Happier,  for  our 
SabbatH-day  tea.” 

SucH  foolishness  is  more  than  shrewdness  or  clever  guess-work. 
It  is  spiritual  insight.  “ Our  Sabbath-day  tea  ” is,  in  that  house- 
hold, the  swept  and  garnished  nook  that  will  expand  into  the 
orderliness  and  beauty  of  the  whole  life.  The  faith  that  reaches  after 
the  inner  refinement,  of  which  the  best  china — “ blue,  with  lilies-of- 
the  valley,”  is  the  visible  type,  may  be  but  a little  leaven,  but  of 
such  potency  that  years  nor  generations  shall  suffice  to  trace  out 
its  workings.  If  he  is  accounted  a benefactor  in  his  age  who  makes 
two  blades  of  grass  grow  where  but  one  grew  before,  what  praise 
shall  be  awarded  to  her  whose  kitchen-range  is  an  altar  of  sacrifice 
to  the  love  that  strives  continually  to  express  tender  and  unceasing 
thought  of  the  objects  beloved,  not  in  words  only,  but  in  deeds? 
We  may  smile  at  the  linked  images  of  supper-rolls  and  devotion 
akin  to  that  which  moved  a Rachel  Russel  and  a Margaret  More  ; 
of  a surprise-salad  set  before  the  jaded  husband  at  tea-time,  and 
such  sympathy  with  his  too  arduous  labors  and  pecuniary  trials  as 
robs  the  wife’s  cheek  of  bloom  and  her  eyes  of  slumber.  The  truth 
remains,  and  is  stubborn,  that  hungry  Jeannot  would  rather 
Jeannette  should  meet  him  with  an  omelette,  than  with  a rose-bud, 
as  an  evening  welcome  home.  A cold  tea  ” is  a convenience  to 
housekeeper  and  to  help.  Paterfamilias  agrees  outwardly  to  the 
assurance  that  it  is  more  wholesome  for  the  children.  For  all  that, 
he  appreciates  the  pleasing  iniquity  of  one  covered  dish  and  the  hot 
biscuits  that  ought  to-but-seldom-do  give  him  dyspeptic  night-mares, 
while  he  and  the  boys  are  secretly  conscious  of  an  increase  of  self- 
respect  when,  on  the  blessed  Sunday  evening,  the  best  china  is  set 
out  for  them. 

As  a people,  we  know  too  little,  and  care  less,  for  family  f6tes. 
In  our  aversion  to  foreign  sentimentalities,  we  deny  utterance  to 


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238 

feelings  that  honor  our  humanity ; make  bare  and  lonely  the  lives 
for  which  we  would  lay  down  our  own.  And  what  other  of  our 
household  meals  can  be  so  easily  converted  into  a feast  that  shall 
wear  the  air  of  a voluntary  tribute  of  affection,  a benediction  and 
caress,  that  shall  efface  the  day’s  worries,  and  give  tone  to  the 
evening’s  pleasures,  as  our  “ Famii^y  Tea  ? ” 


What  our  Children  Eat. 

IN  an  interesting  and  valuable  little  work  entitled  “ Food  for  the 
Invalid,”  the  late  Dr.  J.  Milner  Fothergill,  of  London,  said, 
“up  to  a recent  period,  oatmeal  porridge  and  milk  was  the 
food  of  the  nursery,  par  excellence^  and  is  still  so  where  the 
parents  possess  good  sense  and  the  children  good  digestion — condi- 
tions which  do  not  co-exist  in  every  household.” 

This  one  sentence  distinctly  proclaims  the  nationality  and 
dwelling-place  of  the  distinguished  author. 

“ Up  to  a recent  period  ” the  food  of  the  American  nursery  has 
been  more  “ promiscuous  ” than  that  of  the  adult  members  of  the 
household,  by  reason  of  such  adjuncts  to  the  regular  daily  fare  as 
green  apples,  pop-corn  balls,  taffy,  and  candies  illimitable  and 
indescribable. 

“ It  is  astonishing  what  children  can  eat  with  impunity,”  is  a 
complacent  proverb  which  could  hardly  have  gained  circulation  in 
any  other  country,  if  we  except  Lapland  and  West  Africa.  Casting 
aside  imaginative  drapings,  let  us  omit  from  the  statement  just 
penned  the  clause,  “ Up  to  a recent  period,”— and  confess  what  is 
the  diet  of  children  in  ninety-nine  hundredths  of  the  homes  of  the 
comfortable  classes  of  our  enlightened  land,  abodes  where  poverty 


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never  lays  her  scrawny  hand  on  meat  or  snp.  We  will  furthermore 
exclude  such  extreme  cases  of  eccentric  dietary  as  recur  at  once  to 
the  memory  of  each  reader. 

I have  seen  a baby  just  one  year  and  two  weeks  old,  toddling  on 
the  orchard-grass  and  munching,  with  his  double  quartette  of  small 
white  teeth,  wind-fall  pears  of  an  inferior  grade  at  best,  which  his 
mother  asserts,  “ agree  with  him  as  nothing  else  does.” 

Within  a month,  another,  tw^o  months  younger,  was  displayed 
by  his  proud  papa  as  a prodigy  who  “ will  have  a bite  of  anything 
his  mother  eats,  3^et  was  never  sick  in  his  life.” 

A year  or  so  ago,  I was  accosted  in  my  walk  on  a farmhouse 
porch  by  a laughing  father,  and  made  to  hearken  to  a story  of  a feat 
performed  by  his  whey-faced  three-year-old,  who  had  been  brought 
out  of  town  to  recruit  from  a severe  attack  of  cholera  infantum. 

“ The  young  dog  attacked  a basket  of  peaches,  not  over-ripe 
ones  either,  standing  by  the  kitchen  door,  and  ate  ten  before  I left 
him ! ” 

With  a hinted  doubt  as  to  the  propriet}^’  of  terming  these  “ ex- 
treme cases,”  as  American  families  go — let  us  see  what  is  the 
ordinary  nourishment  (?)  of  the  American  boy  or  girl  from  eight- 
een months  old  and  upward. 

Bobby’s  mamma  orders  for  breakfast : — Oatmeal  porridge  : fish- 
balls  ; stewed  kidneys  ; fried  potatoes  ; hot  rolls  ; buckwheat  cakes 
and  syrup  ; oranges;  pears;  tea  and  coffee. 

Bobby’s  eyes  roll  eagerly  over  the  board  as  the  several  dishes 
are  brought  on,  and  when,  well-stuffed  and  happy,  he  alights  from 
his  tall  chair  at  the  end  of  the  meal,  his  bib  indicates  that  he  has 
sampled  all,  if  he  has  not  partaken  to  satiety  of  each  one.  And 
this  not  because  he  is  a spoiled  child  who  clamors  for  forbidden 
food.  lie  is  more  than  passably  docile  and  obedient,  but  nobody 
thinks  of  refusing  to  give  him  kidneys,  fried  potatoes,  buckwheats 


WHAT  OUR  CHILDREN  EAT. 


241 


or  coffee.  His  mother  could  not  decide,  if  questioned,  which  of 
these  is  wholesome  fare  for  infants,  and  which  likely  to  prove 
deleterious  to  the  young  stomach.  She  has  probably  never  given 
the  matter  a thought. 

At  dinner  there  will  be  soup,  fish,  highly  seasoned  entrees^ 
pastry  and  black  coffee.  The  supper  table  will  be  inviting  with 
lobster  salad,  Welsh  rarebit,  jelly-roll,  crullers  and  preserves. 
Bobby  has  his  share  of  all,  and  goes  to  bed  within  one  hour  after 
bolting  the  last  doughnut,  as  thoughtless  of  evil  as  is  the  fond 
parent,  who  might  as  kindly  treat  him  to  india-rubber  au  gratin 
and  bullets  an  naturel. 

He  lives  through  it?  Why — yes — generally.  That  is,  he  does  not 
always  and  immediately  die  as  the  unmistakable  result  of  the 
poison.  His  system  takes  care  of  it  somehow,  or  gets  rid  of  it 
somehow  else.  If,  by  the  time  he  is  thirty,  the  long-suffering 
stomach  will  pay  no  more  debts  of  his  contracting,  who  reckons  up 
the  account  back  to  infancy  and  reveals  why  the  trial-balance  does 
not  come  out  right  ? He  lived  through  scarlet  fever,  but  it  left  him 
slightly  deaf ; the  measles  kept  him  a prisoner  all  of  one  winter, 
and  his  eyes  have  been  weak  ever  since  ; or  the  arm  he  broke  on 
the  base-ball  ground  is  not  quite  as  supple  as  the  other. 

All  these  drawbacks  are  recorded  in  the  family  memory,  and 
freely  discussed.  Not  even  the  always-vigilant,  never-forgetful 
mother  thinks  of  associating  childish  excesses  in  eating  with  the 
lad’s  sick  headache,  or  the  man’s  defective  digestion. 

While  we  cannot  set  aside  the  weighty  bulk  of  evidence  in  sup- 
port of  the  influence  of  heredity  upon  the  rising  race,  we  may  well, 
for  a while,  withhold  our  feet  from  spurning  the  bones  of  our  fore- 
fathers, and  look  for  a more  modern  solution  of  the  ills  of  our 
corporeal  frames. 


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We  may  not  love  our  British  cousins,  but  we  cannot  deny  to 
them  the  possession  of  brawn,  phosphates  and  complexions.  Their 
climate  is  execrable  for  eight  months  of  the  year,  yet  we  take  it  for 
granted  that  they  owe  their  superiority  in  the  matter  of  constitution 
and  nerve  to  atmospheric  influences.  Johnny  Bull,  Jr.,  breakfasts 
on  porridge,  and  sups  on  bread  and  milk ; dines  on  plain  roast  or 
boiled  meat,  potatoes  and  rice  pudding ; ' tastes  plum  cake  at 
Christmas  ; hardly  knows  the  flavor  of  tea  or  coffee,  and  eats  less 
candy  in  twenty  years  than  our  free-born  Bobby  disposes  of  in  a 
twelvemonth. 

I once  put  a magazine  article  on  “The  Royal  Children  ” in  the 
hands  of  a shrewd,  sallow  lad  of  twelve.  He  looked  up  presently, 
with  a sniff  of  infinite  contempt. 

“ I don’t  think  it  pays  to  be  a prince  if  a fellow  has  got  to  dine 
every  day  on  boiled  mutton  and  babies’  pudding ! ” 

We  set  better  tables,  so  far  as  variety  and  abundance  go,  than 
any  other  people  in  the  world,  eat  more,  and  digest  it  less  comforb 
ably  than  any  sister  civilized  nation.  This  generation  is  beyond 
repair  in  these  particulars.  For  abatement  of  American  dyspepsia 
we  must  look  to  the  mothers  who  are  making  the  constitutions  and 
history  of  the  coming  century. 

The  article  from  which  our  text  is  drawn  goes  on  to  give  the 
preference  to  hominy  over  oatmeal,  and  recommends  American 
maize  as  “ being  the  richest  in  fat  of  all  the  cerealia,  while  it  com 
tains  albuminoid  matter  in  as  high  a proportion  as  does  wheat. 
Preparations  of  maize,”  it  says,  “ are  peculiarly  adapted  to  the 
nursery.” 

Our  Bobby,  accustomed  to  the  varied  menus  I have  sketched, 
would  rebel  hotly  against  a breakfast  of  hominy  and  milk.  I once 
heard  him  condemn  mush  as  “ chicken  feed.”  He  and  his  elder 
brother  and  sisters  arc  products  of  an  artificial  civilization,  modeled 


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243 


on  the  American  pattern.  But  it  is  possible  to  bring  up  Bobby’s 
baby-brother  in  ignorance  of  the  savoriness  of  fried  oysters  and  the 
piquancy  of  curries ; to  train  his  healthy  desire  for  food  in  the 
direction  of  cereals,  milk,  boiled  eggs,  roast  beef  and  boiled  mutton, 
fresh  ripe  fruits,  and  what  our  scornful  young  democrat  stigmatized 
as  “ babies’  pudding.”  Sustained  by  such  fare,  his  digestion  will 
grow  stronger  with  years,  his  bones  firm,  his  brain  clear,  and  his 
nerves  steady.  He  may  not  be  mannish  so  soon  as  the  boy  next 
door,  who  complains  that  his  coffee  is  not  strong  enough  to  brace 
him  up,  and  is  critical  of  ragouts  and  vol-au-vents^  but  he  will  be 
more  manly  in  a sturdy,  wholesome  way,  with  the  sort  of  superiority 
the  elm  has  over  the  ailantus.  As  a preliminary  step,  let  the 
mother  settle  dietetic  problems  on  the  basis  of  what  Baby  may  eat, 
not  what  he  can  devour,  and  apparently  digest. 


Introductory  to  Menus. 

IN  the  preparation  of  this  series  of  bill-of-fare  for  family  use  I 
have  sought  to  accomplish  three  things  : 

First  and  chiefly — To  be  practical. 

Secondly — To  express  my  meaning  clearly  and  fully. 
Thirdly — To  adapt  menu  and  recipes  to  the  service  of  people  of 
moderate  means. 

“ How  do  you  make  your  delicious  chicken  salad?  ” asked  one 
housekeeper  of  another,  in  the  day  when  the  dish  was  comparatively 
new. 

“ Oh,  I put  in  all  the  good  things  I can  think  of,  and  when  it 
tastes  just  right,  I stop,”  was  the  satisfactory  reply. 

Too  many  recipes,  furnished  by  practical  cooks,  and  printed  for 
the  use  of  the  inexperienced,  are  constructed  on  this  principle,  and 
presuppose  skill  and  judgment  in  the  tyro.  Almost  as  serious  is 
the  blunder  of  yielding  to  the  temptation  to  write  out  showy  lists 
of  dishes  as  model  meals,  for  the  reader  whose  income  is  not  above 
the  average  of  that  of  the  young  merchant,  or  professional  man. 
The  true  cook  has,  in  her  modest  sphere,  such  pleasure  in  recipe- 
making as  the  musician  or  poet  has  in  composition.  All  three  fail 
of  popularity  when  they  discourage,  instead  of  animating  those  they 
would  instruct.  The  teacher’s  province  is  not  to  display  his  own 
proficiency,  but  to  develop  the  pupil’s  powers. 


245 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Tuition  that  falls  short  of  this  end  is  failure. 

The  housewife  who  has  a fixed  and  small  allowance  for  market- 
ing, reads  in  the  Home  Corner  of  her  family  newspaper  a breakfast 
mcmi  that  calls  for  a dish  of  meat,  one  of  fish,  and  another  of  eggs  ; 
for  two  kinds  of  hot  bread  ; for  oatmeal  porridge  ; potatoes,  fruit, 
coffee,  and  milled  chocolate — and,  with  a sinking  heart,  she  turns 
elsewhere  for  help  in  her  attempt  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the  firsts 
and  most  trying  meal  of  the  day.  Recipes  and  cook-books  are  not 
prepared  for  millionaires’  wives.  Our  prudent  manager  knows  as 
well  as  does  her  would-be  mentor,  that  few  families,  even  among 
her  wealthy  neighbors,  sit  down  dail}^  to  breakfast-tables  spread  as 
lavishly  as  the  imaginary  board  above  sketched.  To  discourage- 
ment is  added  contempt  for  the  printed  guide  that  would  assert  the 
contrary  to  be  the  rule. 

A clever  little  woman  who  has  a positive  genius  for  cookery, 
threw  up  her  hands  tragically  when  I recommended  as  easily-made 
and  cheap  the  oyster-bisque,  directions  for  which  will  be  found 
hereafter. 

“ I have  a recipe  for  oyster-bisque,  thank  you  ! It  calls  for 
sixteen  ingredients.  I counted  them.  One  of  them  is  a quart  of 
cream.  I could  not  put  that  soup  into  my  tureen  for  less  than  $1.50, 
not  computing  time  and  labor.  I do  not  believe  in  fifty-cent  dinners 
for  six  people,  but  we  can’t  afford  five-dollar  feasts  for  every  day.” 

A novice  brought  to  me  once,  an  article  clipped  from  a favorite 
weekly,  in  which  minute  instructions  were  given,  dialogically,  for 
the  manufacture  of  meat  dumplings.  The  tale — as  a tale — hung 
well  together.  But  the  meat  never  went  into  the  pastry.  Why 
and  how  they  were  kept  apart  was  a worse  quandary  than  the 
King’s  enigma  as  to  how  the  apple  got  into  his  dumpling. 

With  this  prefatory,  and  I trust,  not  tedious  laying  of  the  cloth, 
we  will  proceed  to  business. 


Phe^idiAt 


Woodcock 


Tvirbot. 


L.ob^t^r^ 


,^Aln[\or\. 

!1« 


MackfrfI 


Partridge 


Ptdr(T\igAr\ 


Spring  Bills  of  Fare. 

No.  I. 

BREAKFAST. 

Coarse  Hominy. 

Potato  Rolls.  Fried  Pigs’  P'eet,  Breaded. 

Buttered  Toast.  Cold  Bread. 

Fruit. 

Tea.  Coffee. 


Coarse  Hominy. 

This  is  otherwise  known  as  cracked  corn.  Wash  it  well  and 
set  it  to  soak  over  night.  In  the  morning,  drain  and  cook  soft  in 
boiling  water,  salted.  Eat  with  sugar  and  cream,  or  cream  only. 


Potato  Rolls. 

One  cup  of  potato,  mashed  or  whipped,  until  smooth  and  light, 

with  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  and  two  cups  of  lukewarm  milk ; 

one  tablespoonful  of  sugar ; one  scant  cup  of  flour  ; one-half  yeast 

cake — dissolved  in  warm  water ; one  teaspoon ful  of  salt — an  even 

one ; mix  these  together,  using  but  half  the  flour  over  night,  and 

247 


V 


248 


housp:  and  homp:. 


leave  them  to  rise.  P^arl}^  in  tlic  morning,  work  in  the  rest  of  the 
flour,  knead  thoroughly  and  let  it  rise  for  an  lionr  and  a half;  mold 
into  small  rolls  after  a seeond  brisk,  hard  kneading,  set  in  a pan 
and  leave  in  a warm  plaee  for  half  an  hour  before  baking.  Send 
hot  to  the  table. 


Fried  PiGvS’  P'ket,  Breaded. 

Buy  the  pigs’  feet  ready  piekled  from  your  buteher.  If  they 
have  only  been  kept  in  brine,  soak  three  hours  and  boil  until 
tender.  While  hot,  eover  with  boiling  vinegar,  in  whieh  you  have 
put  a tablespoonful  of  sugar  and  half  a dozen  whole  black  pepper- 
corns for  each  cupful  of  vinegar.  Do  this  the  day  before  you  cook 
them  for  breakfast.  Before  frying,  wipe  each  piece  well,  roll  in 
beaten  egg,  then  in  cracker  crumbs,  and  cook  in  plenty  of  cleared 
dripping  or  lard.  Drain  off  the  fat,  and  send  to  the  table  hot 


Buttered*  Toast. 

Slice  the  bread  nearly  an  inch  thick,  pare  off  the  crust,  and 
toast  quickly  over  a clear  fire,  buttering  each  piece  lightly  as  you 
take  it  from  the  toaster.  Lay  in  a hot  dish  until  all  are  done.  As 
soon  as  the  last  slice  comes  from  the  fire,  send  all  to  the  table.\ 
Should  a corner  scorch,  scrape  before  you  butter  it.  The  whole 
surface  should  be  of  a light  yellow  brown. 

LUNCHEON. 

Roe  Omelette.  > 

Steamed  Brown  Bread.  Stewed  Potatoes. 

Crackers  and  Cheese. 


Cake  and  Marmalade. 


Chocolate. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE.  249 

Roe  Omelette. 

Boil  the  roe  of  the  shad  you  are  to  bake  for  dinner  in  hot  water, 
with  a little  salt,  for  twenty  minutes.  Take  it  out  and  plunge  into 
ice-cold  water  until  cold  and  firm.  Wipe,  and  break  into  a 
granulated  mass,  removing  all  the  skin  and  strings.  Mix  this  with 
a tablespoonfnl  of  butter,  a tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley,  and 
season  cautiously  with  salt  and  cayenne  pepper.  Have  ready  in  a 
saucepan  half  a cupful  of  drawn  butter.  Beat  the  roe  into  it,  and 
set  in  boiling  water  while  you  make  an  omelette  of  six  eggs 
whipped  light,  whites  and  yolks  together.  Add  a little  salt,  pour 
the  eggs  into  a frying-pan  where  a tablespoonful  of  butter  is 
simmering ; shake  steadily  until  the  omelette  thickens,  spread  the 
roe  mixture  on  half  of  it,  double  the  other  part  over  it,  and  turn 
out  dexterously  on  a hot  dish.  Garnish  with  parsley. 


Steamed  Brown  Bread. 

One  cup  of  rye  meal  (not  flour)  ; one  cup  of  Indian  meal ; half 
a cup  of  Graham  flour ; one  cup  of  milk ; half  a cup  of  molasses, 
(syrup  will  not  do)  ; one  even  teaspoonful  of  salt,  and  the  same  of 
soda.  Sift  flour,  meal,  salt  and  soda  twice  together  to  mix  all  well. 
Add  the  molasses  to  the  milk,  and  work  into  the  flour ; knead  for 
five  minutes,  turn  into  a greased  mold  and  steam  for  three  hours. 
Eat  hot ; but  it  is  also  good  when  cold. 


Stewed  Potatoes. 

Peel  and  cut  in  small  square  bits,  dropping  these  in  cold  water  as 
you  go  on.  Cook  tender  in  boiling,  salted  water.  Turn  off  half  of  this 
when  they  are  nearly  done,  and  replace  with  a like  quantity  of  hot 


250 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


milk  in  whicli  lias  been  dissolved  a tablespoon fnl  of  butter  cut  up 
in  flour.  Simmer  three  or  four  minutes,  pepper,  salt,  and  stir  in  a 
teaspoonful  of  finely  cut  parsley.  Boil  up  and  dish. 

Chocolatk. 

Six  tablespoon  fills  of  chocolate  wet  to  a paste  with  cold  water. 
One  quart  of  milk.  Heat  the  milk  in  a farina  kettle,  stir  in  the 
chocolate  paste  and  boil  five  miiiiites.  Draw  the  kettle  to  the  front 
of  the  range,  and  with  a clean  Dover  egg-beater,  whip  the  hot 
chocolate  one  minute  before  pouring  into  the  pot  in  which  it  is  to 
go  to  the  table.  Sweeten  in  the  cups. 


DINNER. 

Puree  Maigre. 

Baked  Shad  and  Mashed  Potatoes. 

Beefsteak  with  Sherry  Sauce.  Spinach  au  natureU 

Suet  and  Sago  Pudding, 

Neapolitan  Sauce. 

Fruit.  CojBfee. 


PuREK  Maigre. 

One  turnip  ; one  carrot ; half  an  onion  ; one  tablespoonful  of 
chopped  cabbage  ; half  a can  of  tomatoes ; half  a cup  of  raw  rice ; 
stalk  of  celery,  chopped  ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  cut  up  in 
two  of  prepared  flour;  two  tablespoonfuls  of  chopped  parsley; 
one  quart  of  cold  water  ; pepper  and  salt  to  taste;  one  teaspoonful 
of  sugar  ; one  cup  of  milk. 

Pare  and  grate  turnip  and  carrot.  Peel,  and  slice  the  onion,  and 
parljoil  it  with  the  cablxige  for  twenty  minutes,  throwing  the 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


251 


water  away.  Soak  the  rice  for  two  hours.  Put  all  the  vegetables 
except  the  tomatoes,  with  the  rice  and  cold  water,  into  the  soup 
kettle  ; cover  and  stew  gently  for  an  hour  after  the  boil  is  reached, 
Add  the  tomatoes,  simmer  for  half  an  hour,  and  run  through  a 
colander.  Return  to  the  fire,  stir  to  a boil,  add  the  floured  butter, 
boil  up  a little  faster  and  stir  in  the  milk,  scalding  hot.  Season 
and  pour  out.  Be  careful  not  to  let  the  puree  “ catch  ” in  cooking. 
(Put  a tiny  bit  of  soda  in  the  milk.) 


Baked  Shad. 

Wash  and  wipe  a fine  roe-shad,  inside  and  out.  Have  ready  a 
forcemeat  of  crumbs,  a very  little  minced  fat  salt  pork,  a teaspoonful 
of  butter,  and  one  of  minced  parsley,  seasoned  with  salt  and  pepper. 
Sew  this  up  in  the  fish,  lay  the  latter  in  a dripping  pan,  pour  over  it 
a cup  of  boiling  water,  and  bake  for  one  hour,  at  least,  covered. 
Baste  five  times  with  butter-and-water,  while  baking.  Transfer  the 
shad  to  a hot-water  dish  ; make  the  gravy  by  stirring  into  the 
liquor  left  in  the  pan  the  juice  of  a lemon,  a tablespoonful  of 
browned  flour  wet  up  with  cold  water,  a little  salt  and  pepper. 
Boil  up  sharply,  and  send  to  the  table  in  a gravy-boat.  Garnish 
the  shad  with  slices  of  lemon,  on  each  of  which  is  laid  a little  finely- 
bruised  parsley.  Send  mashed  potato  around  with  it. 


Beefsteak  with  Sherry  Sauce. 

Broil  the  steak  in  the  usual  way,  lay  it  within  the  chafing  dish, 
and  cover  it  with  the  sauce,  after  which  put  on  the  top  of  the  dish 
and  let  the  steak  stand  five  minutes  before  it  is  serv^ed. 


252 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Sauck. 


One  glass  of  sherry;  juice  of  half  a leuioii  ; one  tablespooiifiil  of 
catsup ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  cut  up  in  one  teaspoouful  of 
browned  flour;  half  a teaspoonful  of  salt;  a quarter-teaspoonful  of 
pepper.  Heat  butter,  catsup  and  lemon  juice  in  a saucepan,  add 
seasoning  and  wine,  boil  up  quickly,  and  pour  upon  the  steak. 


Spinach  an  naiurel. 

Wash,  pick  off  the  leaves,  rejecting  the  stems,  and  put  over  the 
fire  in  just  enough  boiling,  salted  water  to  cover  it  well.  Cook  fast 
for  twenty  minutes,  turn  into  a hot  colander,  and  let  it  drain  into  a 
vessel  set  on  the  range  until  all  the  water  has  run  off.  Stir 
into  it  quickly  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  a little  salt  and  pepper, 
press  firmly  to  get  the  shape  of  the  colander  on  the  under  side  of 
the  mass,  and  invert  upon  a hot  platter.  Lay  hard  boiled  eggs 
sliced  about  the  base.  Serve  very  hot. 


Suet  and  Sago  Pudding. 

Four  tablespoonfuls  of  sago,  soaked  for  four  hours  in  cold  water 
enough  to  cover  it ; a generous  half  cup  of  powdered  suet ; one  cup 
of  fine  dried  crumbs ; one  cup  of  milk  and  a tiny  bit  of  soda ; one 
cup  of  sugar ; four  eggs  ; one  teaspoonful  of  corn-starch  wet  with 
milk ; one  even  cup  of  Sultana  raisins ; one  even  teaspoonful  of 
salt. 

When  the  sago  has  soaked  for  the  required  time,  stir  it  into 
the  heated  milk,  and  bring  almost  to  a boil  before  adding  the 
required  crumbs.  Pour  this  on  the  beaten  eggs  and  sugar,  beat 
one  minute,  and  add  suet,  sago,  corn-starch  and  salt.  Butter  a 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


253 


straight-sided  mold,  and  strew  with  raisins  carefully  washed,  dried 
and  rolled  in  flour.  Put  in  the  batter  carefully,  a little  at  a time, 
not  to  wash  the  raisins  to  the  top.  Steam  two  hours.  Dip  in  cold 
water  and  turn  out  on  a hot  platter. 


Neapolitan  Sauce. 

Two  cups  of  powdered  sugar ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  red  currant  jelly;  juice  of  half  a lemon. 

Warm  the  butter  slightly,  and  stir  with  the  sugar  to  a cream. 
Divide  into  two  parts,  whip  the  lemon  juice  into  one,  the  jelly  into 
the  other.  Wet  a bowl  and  fill  with  alternate  strata  of  white  and 
pink  sauce.  Let  it  cool  on  the  ice,  and  when  hard  pass  a knife 
close  to  the  sides  of  the  bowl  to  loosen  it.  Send  to  table  on  a cold 
salver. 


No.  S. 

BREAKFAST. 

Wheat  Germ  Meal  Porridge.  Ragout  of  Liver. 

Egg  Biscuit.  Watercresses. 

Strawberries.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Wheat  Germ  Meal  Porridge. 

This  excellent  breakfast  cereal  is  particularly  good  when  boiled 
in  milk-and-water  in  equal  quantities.  Wet  up  a cupful  of  the 
germ  meal  ” in  cold  water  to  a thick  mush,  thin  to  gruel-like 
consistency  with  hot  milk,  and  cook  fifteen  minutes  in  a farina 
kettle,  after  the  water  in  the  outer  vessel  reaches  a boil.  Salt  to 
taste  and  eat  with  cream. 


254 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Ragout  of  Liver. 

Heat  three  or  four  spoonfuls  of  nice  dripping  in  a frying-pan,  add 
an  onion,  sliced,  a tablespoonfnl  of  chopped  parsley,  and  thrice  as 
nincli  minced  breakfast-bacon  ; when  all  are  hissing  hot,  lay  in  the 
liver  cut  in  pieces  as  long  and  wide  as  your  middle  finger  and  fry 
brown,  turning  often  ; take  out  the  liver  and  keep  warm  in  a 
covered  hot  water  dish  ; strain  the  gravy,  rinse  out  the  frying-pan, 
and  return  to  the  fire  with  the  gravy,  and  an  even  tablespoonful  of 
blitter  worked  up  well  in  two  of  browned  flour.  Stir  until  yon 
have  a smooth,  brown  roux ; thin  gradually  with  half  a cupful  of 
boiling  water  and  the  juice  of  half  a lemon  ; add  a teaspoonfnl  of 
minced  pickle  and  a scant  half  teaspoonfnl  of  curry  powder  wet 
with  cold  water.  Boil  sharply,  pour  over  the  liver,  put  fresh  boiling 
water  in  the  pan  under  the  dish,  and  let  all  stand  closely  covered 
for  ten  minutes  before  serving. 

Egg  Biscuit. 

Two  cups  of  warm  milk  ; two  eggs  ; two  heaping  tablespoonfuls 
of  butter ; half  a cake  of  compressed  yeast,  dissolved  in  warm 
water ; one  quart  of  sifted  flour ; one  teaspoonfnl  of  salt. 

Mix  with  the  butter  (melted,  but  not  hot)  the  yeast,  salt  and 
three  cups  of  flour  together  over  night,  and  set  in  a covered  bowl  to 
rise.  Early  in  the  morning,  add  the  beaten  eggs  and  the  rest  of  the 
flour,  and  set  for  a second  rising  of  an  hour,  or  longer.  When 
light,  roll  into  a sheet  almost  an  inch  thick,  cut  into  round  cakes, 
and  lay  in  a floured  baking  pan.  At  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  bake 
in  a good  oven.  They  are  delicious,  cold  or  hot. 

Watkrcrksses. 

Wash  well,  pick  off  decayed  leaves,  and  leave  in  ice-water  until 
you  are  ready  to  eat  them.  They  should  then  be  shaken  free  of 


INTRODUCTORY  TO  MENUS. 


255 

wet,  and  piled  lightly  in  a glass  dish.  Eat  with  salt.  They  are  a 
piquant  appetizer  on  sultry  mornings,  and  very  wholesome. 


Strawberries. 

Do  not  ruin  the  flavor  by  washing  them,  nor  wither  them  and 
sap  their  sweetness  by  laying  them  in  sugar.  “ Cap  ’’  with  cool, 
light  fingers,  heap  in  a bowl,  and  sprinkle  sugar  on  them  after  they 
are  served  in  the  saucers  to  waiting  eaters  expectant.  The  larger 
varieties  of  strawberries  are  best  served  with  caps  and  stems  on. 
The  eater  uses  the  latter  as  handles,  and  dips  the  berries  into  dry 
sugar,  one  by  one.  This  is  the  prettiest  way  of  eating  breakfast 
strawberries. 


LUNCHEON. 

Clam  Scallops.  Deviled  Tongue. 

Stewed  Potatoes. 

Radishes.  Crackers  and  Cheese.  Tea  and  Cake. 


Clam  Scallops. 

Chop  50  clams  fine,  and  drain  off  through  a colander  all  the 
liquor  that  will  come  away.  Mix  this  in  a bowl  with  a cupful  of 
crushed  crackers,  half  a cupful  of  milk,  two  beaten  eggs,  a table- 
spoonful  of  melted  butter,  half  a teaspoonful  of  salt,  a pinch  of  mace 
and  the  same  of  cayenne  pepper.  Beat  into  this  the  chopped  clams, 
and  fill  with  the  mixture,  clam  shells,  or  the  silver  or  stone-china 
shell-shaped  dishes  sold  for  this  purpose.  Bake  to  a light  brown 
in  a quick  oven,  and  serve  in  the  shells.  Send  around  sliced 
lemon  with  them. 


2^6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Deviled  Tongue. 


Slice  a cold  boiled  tongue  (fresh  or  smoked)  and  fry  the  slices 
quickly  in  nice  dripping.  If  yon  have  none,  use  butter.  Chop  a 
little  onion  fine  and  stir  in  before  the  tongue  is  fried.  Take  up  the 
slices,  arrange  neatly,  overlapping  one  another,  in  a hot-water  dish. 
Strain  the  fat,  return  to  the  fire,  stir  in  a teaspoonfnl  of  browned 
flour,  half  a teaspoonful  of  Worcestershire  sauce,  a tablespoonful 
of  vinegar,  a quarter  of  a teaspoon ful  of  mustard,  a pinch  of 
cayenne,  and  half  a cupful  of  boiling  water.  Stir,  and  boil  for 
one  minute,  and  pour  over  the  tongue. 


Radishes. 

Cut  down  the  tops  to  within  an  inch  of  the  roots.  Wash, 
scrape  off  the  fibers,  and  arrange  tastefully  on  a dish  with  bits  of 
ice  between  them. 


DINNER. 

Browned  Potato  Soup. 

Shad  Baked  with  Wine  Sauce.  Larded  Leg  of  Mutton. 

Green  Peas. 

Stewed  Macaroni.  Strawberry  Shortcake. 

Coffee. 

Brown  Potato  Soup. 

A dozen  potatoes  of  fair  size;  half  an  onion,  sliced ; two  quarts 
of  boiling  water;  two  tablespoon  fills  of  chopped  parsley  ; two  eggs, 
beaten  light ; half  a cup  of  milk  ; pepper,  salt  and  cleared  dripping 
for  frying;  a tablespoonful  of  butter;  heat  the  dripping  in  a round- 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


257 


bottomed  saucepan  and  fry  the  potatoes  (peeled  carefully  so  as  to 
leave  all  the  starch  in  them,  then  left  in  cold  water  for  half  an  hour) 
and  onion  to  a fine  brown ; drain,  drop  them  in  the  boiling  water, 
and  cook  soft.  Rub  through  the  colander  back  into  the  kettle  with 
the  water  in  which  they  were  boiled  ; add  the  parsley,  stir  to  a bub- 
bling boil,  and  season  with  pepper  and  salt.  Heat  the  milk  in 
another  saucepan,  melt  the  butter  in  it,  add  the  eggs,  stir  one 
minute ; take  the  soup-kettle  from  the  fire,  pour  in  the  milk  and 
eggs,  and  serve  at  once.  If  the  potatoes  do  not  thicken  the  water 
to  a puree,  roll  the  butter  in  a tablespoonful  of  flour  and  stir  directly 
into  the  soup  kettle  instead  of  into  the  milk. 


Shad  Baked  with  Wine  Sauce. 

Clean,  without  splitting  the  fish,  leaving  on  the  head  and  tail. 
Lay  in  a dripping  pan,  pour  a small  cupful  of  boiling  water  over  it, 
invert  another  dripping  pan  upon  the  lower,  and  bake  one  hour, 
basting  six  times  with  butter  and  water  from  the  dripping  pan. 
Transfer  the  fish  to  a hot  platter ; strain  the  gravy  into  a saucepan  ; 
thicken  with  a heaping  teaspoon  ful  of  browned  flour  ; season  with 
salt  and  pepper,  and  add  at  the  last  a glass  of  brown  sherry.  Pour 
over  the  fish,  and  send  to  table  covered. 


Larded  Leg  of  Mutton. 

Cut  half-inch  wide  strips  of  fat  salt  pork  into  lengths  of  four 
inches.  With  a narrow-bladed  knife,  make  horizontal  incisions  in 
the  meat  to  the  bone,  and,  where  this  does  not  oppose  the  blade, 
clear  through  the  joint.  Roll  these  “ lardoons  ’Mn  a mixture  of 
pepper, -mace  and  vinegar,  and  insert  in  the  holes  made  by  the  knife. 
If  you  have  a larding  needle,  the  task  is  easier.  Set  the  meat  in  a 


258 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


dripping  pan,  dash  a cupful  of  boiling  water  over  it,  and  roast  ten 
minutes  for  each  pound,  basting  often.  Ten  minutes  before  taking 
it  lip,  rub  over  with  a mixture  of  a teaspoonfiil  of  butter  and  two 
tablespoonfiils  of  tart  jelly.  Strain  the  gravy,  pour  off  the  fat, 
and  thicken  what  is  left  with  browned  flour,  season  with  salt  anej 
pepper,  boil  up,  and  serve  in  a boat. 


Green  Peas. 

Boil  the  pods  fifteen  minutes  in  slightly  salted  water ; strain 
them  out,  drop  in  the  peas,  and  cook  tender,  but  not  until  they 
break.  Drain  dry ; stir  in  salt,  pepper,  and  a good  lump  of  butter. 
Serve  hot. 


Stewed  Macaroni. 

Half  a pound  of  “ pipe  ” or  ‘‘  straw  ” macaroni ; one  cup  of 
milk  ; one  teaspoonful  of  minced  onion ; one  tablespoonful  of  but- 
ter ; half  a cupful  of  cheese ; pepper  and  salt  to  taste,  and  a bit  of 
soda  in  the  milk  ; break  the  macaroni  into  short  pieces,  and  cook 
about  twenty  minutes  in  boiling  water,  salted.  Meanv/hile,  heat 
the  milk  (dropping  in  a tiny  pinch  of  soda),  with  the  onion  to  the 
scalding  point.  Strain  out  the  onion,  drain  the  water  from  the 
macaroni,  and  put  the  milk  into  a sauce-pan.  Stir  in  the  butter, 
cheese,  pepper  and  salt,  finally,  the  macaroni.  Cook  three  minutes, 
and  turn  into  a deep  dish. 


Strawberry  Shortcake. 

One  cup  of  powdered  sugar  ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter  ; three 
eggs  ; one  rounded  cup  of  prepared  flour ; two  tablespoonfuls  of 
cream  ; one  generous  quart  of  berries. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


259 


Rub  the  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream  ; whip  in  the  beaten  yolks, 
the  cream,  the  whites,  at  last,  the  flour.  Bake  in  three  jelly  cake 
tins  and  let  the  cakes  get  cold.  Cut  the  berries  into  halves,  and  lay 
between  them,  sprinkling  the  strata  with  sugar.  Sift  sugar  on  the 
topmost  layer.  Slice  and  eat  with  cream. 


Brewis, 

Cold  Bread. 

Fruit 


No.  3. 

BREAKFAST. 

Cornmeal  Dodgers, 
Deviled  Beef  in  Batter. 

Browned  Potatoes. 
Tea,  Coffee, 


Brewis, 

One  even  cup  of  dried  bread  crumbs  ; a pint  of  milk ; a quarter- 
teaspoonful  of  salt ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter. 

Save  crusts  and  broken  slices  from  day  to  day.  When  you  go 
to  bed,  the  night  before  you  wish  to  make  brewis,  spread  these  bits 
in  a dripping-pan  and  set  in  the  cooling  oven  to  dry.  Take  them 
out  in  the  morning,  and  crush  with  the  rolling  pin  into  rather 
coarse  crumbs.  Heat  the  milk,  salt  it,  and  when  it  boils,  stir  in 
the  crumbs  gradually  until  you  have  granulated  mush.  It  should 
not  get  stiff.  Now,  put  in  the  butter,  stir  and  beat  until  hot,  and 
serve  in  an  open  dish.  Eat  with  sugar  and  cream. 

Cornmeal  Dodgers. 

One  quart  of  Indian  meal ; one  quart  of  boiling  milk ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  sugar  ; half  a .yeast  cake,  dissolved  in  warm  water ; 


26o  house  and  home. 

one  tablespoonful  of  lard  and  the  same  of  butter;  one  even 
teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Scald  the  meal  with  the  milk,  stir  in  the  sugar  and  shortening, 
and,  when  it  is  almost  cold,  beat  in  the  yeast.  Let  it  rise  all  night. 
Beat  up  again  one  hour  before  breakfast,  and  set  it  for  a second 
rising.  Heat  a dripping  pan,  grease  well,  and  drop  the  stiff  batter 
on  it  by  the  spoonful.  Let  these  be  an  inch  or  two  apart,  that  they 
may  not  run  into  one  another,  and  shut  up  in  a quick  oven  to  bake. 
They  should  be  rough  on  top,  and  higher  in  the  middle  than  at 
the  sides.  If  the  batter  runs,  add  a very  little  flour.  It  must  be 
stiff  enough  to  stand  in  a heap.  Eat  very  hot. 


Deviled  Beef  in  Batter. 

Cut  slices  of  underdone  roast  beef,  and  lay  them  for  an  hour  in 
a mixture  of  half  a cup  of  vinegar,  half  a teaspoonful,  each,  of  salt 
and  made  mustard.  Turn  them  over  and  over,  several  times,  to 
absorb  the  dressing.  Lay  on  a clean  cloth,  press  with  another  to 
take  up  the  liquid,  and  dip  in  a batter  made  in  the  proportion  of  one 
egg,  half  a cup  of  milk  and  two  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour,  with 
a little  salt.  Fry  in  dripping  or  lard,  drain  off  the  grease,  and  serve. 


Browned  Potatoes. 

Boil  in  their  skins,  dry  off  and  peel,  set  in  a baking  pan  in  the 
oven,  and  as  they  heat,  butter  three  times  at  intervals  of  five 
minutes  to  glaze  them.  

LUNCHEON. 

Scalloped  Cod,  Halibut  or  Salmon. 

Hashed  Potatoes,  Browned. 

Cold  Bread.  Butter.  Pickles. 

Crackers  and  Cheese.  Lady  Cake.  Tea. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


261 


Scalloped  Cod,  Halibut  or  Salmon. 

Two  pounds  of  cold  boiled  fish ; two  cups  of  milk  ; one  even 
cup  of  bread  crumbs  ;-two  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour;  pepper 
and  salt  to  taste ; one  tablespoonful  of  finely  minced  parsley  ; 
two  eggs. 

Pick  the  fish  fine  with  a fork,  heat  the  salted  milk  in  a saucepan, 
rub  the  flour  and  butter  together,  stir  into  the  milk,  with  pepper 
and  parsley,  and  pour  this  on  the  beaten  eggs.  Strew  the  bottom 
of  a baking  dish  with  crumbs,  put  in  a layer  of  sauce,  then  one  of 
fish,  another  of  sauce,  and  so  on  until  the  ingredients  are  used  up. 
Cover  with  the  rest  of  the  crumbs  and  bake,  covered,  until  it  bubbles 
all  over,  then  brown. 


Hashed  Potatoes,  Browned. 

Pare  and  cut  potatoes  into  small  dice  ; lay  these  in  cold  water 
for  half  an  hour ; stew  tender,  but  not  soft,  in  hot,  salted  water ; turn 
this  off,  and  cover  the  potatoes  with  a cup  of  hot  milk,  in  which 
you  have  melted  a tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  a teaspoonful  of 
prepared  flour.  Turn  all  into  a greased  pudding,  or  pie  dish,  and 
brown  lightly  in  a quick  oven. 


Lady  Cake. 

One  and  a half  cups  of  powered  sugar  ; half  cup  of  butter ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  milk  ; whites  of  five  eggs ; two  even  cups  of 
sifted  prepared  flour ; One  teaspoonful  of  bitter  almond  flavoring. 
Rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  add  the  milk  and  flavoring,  then 
whites  and  flour  alternately.  Bake  in  jelly  cake  tins,  and  when 
they  are  cold,  divide  by  layers  of  whipped  cream,  sifting  sugar  on 
top. 


262 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


DINNER. 


Catfish  Soup. 


Larded  Liver. 


Canned  Corn  Pudding. 

Russian  Cream. 
Fruit. 


Light  Cake. 
Coffee. 


Stewed  Tomatoes. 


Catfish  Soup. 


Three  pounds  of  fish  when  they  have  been  cleaned,  skinned 
and  beheaded ; two  cups  of  milk,  heated,  with  a tiny  bit  of  soda ; 
two  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour  rubbed  up  with  three  of  but- 
ter ; two  beaten  eggs  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  minced  parsley  ; three 
cups  of  cold  water ; pepper  and  salt. 

Cover  the  fish  with  cold  water  and  stew  gently  until  the  flesh 
slips  easily  from  the  bones ; take  from  the  fire,  pick  out  and  throw 
away  the  bones ; chop  the  fish,  strain  the  liquor  in  which  it  was 
boiled,  and  return  all  to  the  fire  ; as  it  boils,  stir  in  floured  butter, 
seasoning  and  parsley  ; boil  two  minutes ; pour  the  scalding  milk 
from  another  vessel  over  the  eggs,  turn  into  the  tureen,  add  the 
fish-soup  and  serve.  Line  the  tureen  with  Boston  crackers,  split, 
soaked  in  boiling  milk  and  well-buttered  before  pouring  the  soup 
upon  them.  Pass  sliced  lemon  with  it. 


Larded  Liver. 

Wash  a fresh  calf’s  liver,  and  soak  it  for  an  hour  in  cold  water 
sligiitly  salt.  Wipe  dry,  and  with  a sharp  knife,  make  perpendicu- 
lar incisions  clear  through  the  liver  about  an  inch  apart.  Into 
these,  thrust  strips  of  fat  salt  pork  long  enough  to  project  on  both 
sides.  Into  the  bottom  of  a pot  or  saucepan  put  a tablespoonful  of 
minced  onion,  some  chopped  parsley  or  other  sweet  herbs,  pepper, 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


263 


and  a half-cupful  of  strained  tomato  juice.  On  this  lay  the  liver, 
sprinkle  as  much  onion  on  top  as  there  is  below,  cover  very  tightly 
and  set  at  one  side  of  the  range,  where  it  will  not  reach  the  boiling 
point  under  an  hour.  Gradually  increase  the  heat,  but  never  let  it 
be  strong,  for  two  hours  more,  when  uncover  the  pot  for  the  first 
time,  to  test  with  a fork  if  it  be  tender.  It  should  be  so  tender  that 
the  fork  enters  as  easily  as  into  the  crumby  heart  of  a well-baked 
loaf  Take  out  the  liver  and  keep  hot,  while  you  strain  the  gravy, 
thicken  with  a great  spoonful  of  browned  flour  wet  in  cold  water, 
and  when  it  boils,  add  a glass  of  sherry._  Pour  over  the  liver. 
Carve  the  latter  horizontally.  It  is  as  good  cold  as  hot. 


Canned  Corn  Pudding. 

Mince  the  corn  fine.  Beat  up  three  eggs,  add  two  tablespoonfuls 
of  sugar,  the  same  of  melted  butter,  an  even  teaspoonful  of  salt 
and  a cupful  of  milk,  lastly  the  corn.  Beat  hard  and  bake  covered 
in  a greased  pudding  dish  half  an  hour,  then  uncover  to  brown 
delicately. 

Stewed  Tomatoes. 

Cook  twenty  minutes,  before  seasoning  with  a tablespoonful  of 
butter,  an  even  teaspoonful  of  sugar,  less  than  half  as  much  salt,  a 
dash  of  pepper,  and  the  merest  suspicion  of  minced  onion.  Stew 
five  minutes  longer,  add  a teaspoonful  of  fine  crumbs,  boil  up  and 
serve. 


Russian  Cream. 

Half  a package  of  Cooper’s  gelatine,  soaked  four  hours  in  water 
enough  to  cover  it ; one  quart  of  milk ; four  eggs ; two  cups  of 
sugar ; a generous  glass  of  sherry  ; two  teaspoonfuls  of  vanilla. 


264 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Scald  the  milk,  take  from  the  fire,  and  stir  into  it  the  yolks  of 
the  eggs  beaten  light  with  the  sugar ; also  the  gelatine.  Stir  all 
the  time  while  mixing  and  return  to  the  fire  ; boil  five  minutes, 
still  stirring,  remove  to  the  table,  add  the  whites  beaten  to  a froth, 
the  flavoring  and  wine,  strain  through  a sieve,  and  pour  into  molds 
wet  with  cold  water.  Set  in  a cold  place  to  form.  It  is  well  to 
make  it  the  day  before  it  is  to  be  eaten,  if  you  have  an  early  din- 
ner ; in  the  early  morning,  if  you  dine  in  the  evening.  It  is  deli 
cions.  Eat  with  cake. 


No.  4. 

BREAKFAST. 

Graham  Porridge.  Fried  Tripe.  Rice  Muffins. 
Fried  Potatoes. 

Tea.  Coffee. 


Graham  Porridge. 

One  cup  of  Graham  flour ; one  cup  of  boiling  water— a large 
one  ; one  cup  of  hot  milk  ; salt  to  your  liking. 

Wet  the  flour  with  cold  water,  and  stir  into  the  boiling,  which 
should  be  in  a farina  kettle.  Salt  to  taste,  and  cook  half  an  hour, 
stirring  up  from  the  bottom  now  and  then.  Pour  in  the  warm  milk 
a little  at  a time,  mixing  well,  and  cook  ten  minutes  after  it  is  all 
in.  Serve  in  an  open  dish,  and  eat  with  cream  and  sugar. 


Fried  Tripe. 

Cut  pickled  tripe  into  squares  as  large  as  the  palm  of  the 
hand  ; wash  in  two  waters,  and  cover  with  boiling  water.  Simmer 
gently  for  tweuty  minutes,  turn  off  the  water  and  put  in,  instead^ 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


265 


an  equal  quantity  of  milk-and-water,  cold.  Bring  to  a boil,  drain 
and  wipe  the  tripe,  rub  each  piece  with  butter  and  pepper,  with 
salt,  if  needed ; roll  in  flour  or  egg  and  crumbs,  and  fry  in  hot 
dripping.  Drain  off  the  fat  and  serve  on  a heated  dish.  Send 
lemon  and  Chili  sauce  around  with  the  tripe. 


Rice  Muffins. 

One  cup  of  cold  boiled  rice ; two  cups  of  milk  ; half  a yeast  cake, 
dissolved  in  half  a cupful  of  warm  water ; one  full  tablespoonful  of 
lard,  melted ; one  tablespoonful  of  sugar ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; 
three  cups  of  flour ; bit  of  soda,  twice  the  size  of  a pea,  dissolved  in 
boiling  water. 

Rub  the  lard  and  sugar  into  the  rice,  and  into  this,  the  milk, 
working  out  the  lumps.  Add  the  yeast,  and  flour  enough  for  a 
good  batter.  Leave  it  to  rise  five  or  six  hours,  stir  in  soda  and 
salt,  beating  hard,  half  fill  muffin  tins,  let  them  stand,  covered, 
twenty  minutes,  and  bake.  They  are  richer  if  you  add  two  eggs  in 
the  morning  after  the  “ long  rising.”  Eat  hot. 


Fried  Potatoes. 

Pare  potatoes,  and  slice  thin,  or  cut  into  strips.  Lay  in  cold 
water  for  an  hour,  spread  on  a dry  towel,  and,  covering  with 
another,  gently  pat  them  to  dry  off  the  moisture.  Have  ready  hot 
dripping,  and  fry  quickly  to  a light  brown,  not  too  many  at  once. 
Take  up  with  a split  spoon,  and  shake  in  a hot  colander  to  free 
them  from  grease.  Serve  in  a dish  lined  with  a hot  napkin. 
Mem. : Do  not  let  them  get  warm  after  you  take  them  out  of  the 
ice-water,  before  cooking  them. 


266 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


LUNCHEON. 


Meringu^d  Eggs. 


Welsh  Rarebit. 


Bread  and  Butter. 


Prudence’s  Gingerbread. 


Cocoa-theta. 


Meringukd  Eggs. 


Whip  the  whites  of  the  eggs  very  stiif.  Lay  great  spoonfuls  of 
the  standing  froth  on  a platter  that  will  stand  the  oven  heat.  With 
the  back  of  a tablespoon  make  a hollow  in  the  middle  of  each  heap, 
and  put  a raw  yolk  in  it.  Set  in  the  oven  until  the  meringue 
begins  to  color  faintly,  sprinkle  with  pepper  and  salt,  lay  a bit  of 
butter  on  each  egg,  and  serve  in  the  platter  in  which  they  were 


baked. 


Welsh  Rarebit. 


Six  rounds  of  toasted  bread ; two  beaten  eggs ; three  large 
spoonfuls  of  dry  grated  cheese ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  fine  crumbs ; one  tablespoonful  of  cream  ; one 
saltspoonful  of  mustard ; a pinch  of  cayenne ; a saltspoonful  of 
salt. 

Work  the  butter,  cheese,  salt,  pepper  and  cream  gradually  into 
a smooth  paste,  add  the  beaten  eggs,  the  crumbs,  and  spread  half  an 
inch  thick  on  rounds  of  buttered  toast.  If  the  paste  is  not  laid  on 
heavily,  it  will  be  absorbed  in  cooking.  Set  in  a quick  oven  until 
they  begin  to  brown.  Eat  at  once. 

Prudence’vS  Gingerbread  (without  eggs). 

One  cup  of  molasses  ; one  cup  of  sugar ; one  cup  of  buttermilk, 
or  loppered  milk;  half  a cup  of  butter;  one  tablespoonful  of 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  PARK. 


267 


ginger ; one  teaspoonful  of  cinnamon,  or  nutmeg,  or  mace  ; about 
four  cups  of  flour ; one  rounded  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  twice 
with  the  flour. 

Stir  butter,  sugar,  molasses  and  spice  together ; when  you  have 
warmed  them  slightly,  put  in  the  milk,  and  then  the  flour.  Beat 
until  the  batter  is  several  shades  lighter  than  when  you  began,  and 
bake  at  once  in  small  tins. 


Cocoa-theta. 

Heat  four  cups  of  milk  in  a farina  kettle ; stir  in,  when  it  is 
scalding  hot,  four  tablespoonfuls  of  Wilbur’s  cocoa-theta,  and  leave 
in  the  boiling  water,  covered,  for  five  or  six  minutes  before  pouring 
it  out.  This  is  a most  delicious  preparation  of  the  chocolate  family. 
Many  who  cannot  drink  cocoa  as  usually  put  up,  may  take  this 
without  harm  to  head  or  stomach.  It  is  a pleasing  accompaniment 
to  gingerbread. 


DINNER. 

Corn  Soup  (mature).  Boiled  Cod  with  Egg  Sauce. 

Baked  Mutton  Chops. 

Baked  Spaghetti.  Fried  Bananas.  Orange  Pudding. 

Fruit.  Coffee: 

Corn  Soup  {Maigre). 

One  can  of  corn ; two  cups  of  milk ; one  quart  of  water ; 
three  eggs  ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  rolled  in  as  much  flour : 
one  tablespoonful  of  chopped  parsley ; pepper  and  salt  to  taste. 

Chop  the  corn  fine,  and  put  into  a quart  of  boiling  water  in  a 
farina  kettle.  Cook  for  an  hour,  rub  through  a colander,  season 


268 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


with  ]3€pper  and  salt,  put  back  in  the  kettle,  heat  to  a boil,  aud  stir 
in  the  floured  butter.  Scald  the  milk  in  a separate  vessel  (dropping 
in  a tiny  bit  of  soda)  pour  it  slowly  on  the  beaten  eggs,  keeping  the 
egg-beater  going  all  the  time,  add  to  the  soup ; stir  for  one  minute ; 
put  in  the  chopped  parsley,  and  pour  into  the  tureen. 


Boiled  Cod. 

Seleet  a firm,  thick  piece  of  fish ; sew  up  in  mosquito  net  and 
put  over  the  fire  in  jfienty  of  boiling,  salted  water.  Cook  one  hour 
for  a piece  that  weighs  between  four  and  five  pounds.  Undo  the 
netting,  lay  the  fish  on  a hot  dish,  rub  all  over  with  butter  and 
lemon  juice,  and  put  three  tablespoonfuls  of  the  egg-sauce  on  it,  the 
rest  in  a boat. 


Egg  Sauce. 

Heat  a cup  of  milk  and  water — equal  quantities  of  both  ; when  it 
boils,  stir  in  a heaping  tablespoonful  of  butter,  rubbed  together  with 
as  much  flour.  Cook  three  minutes,  and  turn  it  out  upon  two  eggs 
beaten  light.  Return  to  the  fire  ; add  a tablespoonful  of  chopped 
parsley  and  a hard  boiled  egg  minced  very  fine.  Boil  one  minutf 
— no  more — and  pour  out. 


Baked  Mutton  Chops. 

Trim  them  neatly,  and  let  them  lie  in  a mixture  of  melted 
butter,  pepper,  salt  and  lemon  juice  for  half  an  hour,  turning  over 
and  rubbing  the  chops  faithfully  with  it.  Arrange  the  meat  in  a 
dripping  pan,  and,  as  it  heats,  baste  with  hot  water  in  which 
has  been  dissolved  a little  butter.  Keep  covered  except  when 
basting  tliem.  When  the  chops  are  nicely  browned,  remove  to  a 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


269 


hot-water  dish  to  keep  warm.  Strain  the  gravy  left  in  the  pan,  put 
over  the  fire  with  half  a cup  of  strained  tomato  juice,  season,  and, 
as  it  boils,  stir  in  enough  browned  flour  to  thicken  it.  Cook  two 
minutes,  and  pour  upon  the  chops  when  you  have  sprinkled  them 
with  tiny  specks  of  currant  jelly.  Let  them  stand  covered  for 
three  minutes  before  serving. 

Baked  Spaghetti. 

“ Spaghetti  ” is  otherwise  known  as  “ small  ’’  or  straw  ” 
macaroni,  and  is  considered  more  delicate,  as  it  is  certainly  prettier 
than  the  “ large  ” or  “ pipe  macaroni.’^  Break  half  a pound  into 
even  lengths,  perhaps  into  two-inch  pieces.  It  is  easier  to  serve 
and  eat  it  thus  than  when  long  coils  of  it  drip  over  dish  and  plate. 
Cook  it  gently  in  boiling,  salted  water  until  clear  and  tender,  but 
not  broken.  Twenty  minutes  should  suffice.’  Drain  it,  and  fill  a 
buttered  bake-dish  with  layers  of  spaghetti  divided  by  layers  of 
grated  cheese  and  butter-bits,  seasoned  with  salt,  add  a cupful  of  milk, 
raising  the  layers  to  let  it  sink  to  the  bottom  ; strain  grated  cheese 
thickly  on  the  top,  and  bake,  covered,  for  half  an  hour.  Afterward 
brown  on  the  upper  grating  of  the  oven. 


Fried  Bananas. 

Pare,  then  slice  sound,  ripe  bananas  lengthwise,  roll  in  flour, 
until  thickly  coated,  and  fry  to  a delicate  brown  in  butter.  Line  a 
dish  with  white,  soft  paper,  lay  each  slice  on  it  as  you  take  it  up,  to 
absorb  the  grease  and  send  to  table  very  hot. 


Orange  Pudding. 

Three  eggs  ; One  cup  of  sugar  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter; 
juice  of  two  oranges,  and  half  the  grated  peel  of  one;  juice  of  a 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


lemon ; grated  peel  of  half  a lemon  ; two  teaspoonfuls  of  con> 
starch  or  arrowroot — the  latter  is  the  better  of  the  two. 

Whip  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream  ; whip  in,  by  degrees,  orange 
and  lemon-jnice  and  grated  peel  ; lastly,  the  yolks  of  the  eggs,  and 
the  arrowroot  wet  with  water ; have  ready  a pie-plate  lined  with  a 
nice  paste  ; fill  with  the  mixture  and  bake  ; make  a meringue  of 
the  beaten  whites,  and  a heaping  tablespoonful  of  powdered  sugar, 
whipping  in  a teaspoonful  of  lemon-juice  at  the  last;  when  the 
pudding  is  firm  and  begins  to  brown,  spread  this  on  the  top  and  leave 
in  the  oven  until  the  meringue  is  “ set  ” and  incrusted  on  the  surface. 


No.  5. 

BREAKFAST. 

Wheaten  Grits. 

Fresh  Mackerel.  Farina  Cakes. 

Stewed  Potatoes.  Cold  Bread.  Berrie«. 

Tea.  Coffee. 

Fresh  Mackerel. 

Clean,  wash,  wipe  inside  and  cut,  pepper,  salt  and  roll  in  Indian 
meal  and  fry  in  hot  lard  or  good  dripping ; drain,  and  serve  hot.  If 
you  wish  a sauce  for  them,  add  to  half  a cup  of  boiling  water  the 
juice  of  a lemon,  a quarter-teaspoonful  of  mustard  and  a table- 
spoonful of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  browned  flour ; salt  to  liking ; 
boil  up  once  and  serve  in  a gravy  boat. 


Farina  Cakes. 

One  quart  of  milk ; two  cups  of  boiling  water ; half  a cup  of 
farina ; three  eggs ; one  scant  cup  of  prepared  flour  ; one  table- 


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271 


spoonful  of  melted  lard  ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  tablespoonful 
of  molasses.  Mix  the  farina  with  the  boiling  water,  stir  in  salt  and 
lard,  beat  hard,  and  let  it  stand  in  a cool  place  all  night ; then  beat 
in  the  eggs,  the  molasses,  the  milk — gradually — and,  lastl}^,  the 
flour,  stirring  all  hard ; bake  on  a hot,  greased  griddle;  They  are 
very  nice,  if  the  batter  is  not  too  stiff. 


LUNCHEON. 

Galantine.  Minced  Potatoes.  Cress  Salad. 

Crackers  and  Cheese.  Cake  and  Cocoa-theta. 


Galantine. 

Cut  from  a piece  of  fat,  fresh  pork  an  oblong  piece  of  skin,  five 
or  six  inches  wide,  and  eight  or  ten  long.  Leave  a lining  of  fat  on 
the  inside.  Lay  in  vinegar  enough  to  cover  it  for  four  hours  ; then, 
spread  on  a platter,  and  cover  the  fat-lining  with  minced  meat  of 
any  kind  and  all  kinds  (ham  holding  an  important  place)  veal, 
mutton,  beef,  liver,  poultry,  etc.,  seasoned  piquantly  with  pepper, 
salt,  herbs,  onion,  a touch  of  spice,  and  a pinch  of  grated  lemon- 
peel.  Moisten  with  gravy,  and  put  in  a bit  of  fat,  now  and  then. 
Fold  up  the  pork-rind  on  all,  bringing  the  edges  together,  and 
putting  in  a stitch  or  two  to  hold  them  in  place.  Wrap  in  a single 
thickness  of  stout  cloth,  sewing  it  closely  about  it,  and  put  on  to 
boil  in  plenty  of  cold  water,  in  which  is  mixed  half  a cup  of 
vinegar  to  each  quart  of  water.  Boil  slowly  five  hours  ; let  the 
galantine  get  nearly  cold  in  the  water,  take  it  out  and  lay  under 
heavy  weights  all  night ; undo  and  remove  the  cloth,  clip  the 
threads  and  draw  them  out,  trim  off  the  edges,  and  it  is  ready  for 


272 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


the  table.  Cut  clear  through  skiu  and  stufiSng  in  carding  it  in  neat 
slices.  This  “ relish  ” is  very  fine. 


Minced  Potatoes. 

Mince  cold  boiled  potatoes  with  a sharp  knife ; put  a spoonful 
of  beef  dripping,  or  butter  in  a frying  pan,  with  a tablespoonful  of 
finely  minced  parsley,  a quarter  teaspoon ful  of  grated  lemon  peel, 
pepper  and  salt.  As  it  simmers  stir  in  the  potatoes,  and  continue 
to  stir  and  toss  until  very  hot  all  through  and  quite  dry.  Serve  in 
a deep  dish,  hot. 


Cress  Saead. 

Wash  and  pick  over  the  cresses,  shake  off  the  wet,  and  serve  in 
a salad  bowl.  At  table,  pick  the  twigs  to  pieces  and  season  with 
sugar,  pepper,  salt,  vinegar  and  oil.  Mix  well,  and  pass  crackers 
with  it. 


DINNER. 

Asparagus  Soup.  Boiled  Bass. 

Roast  Sweet  Breads  and  Green  Peas. 

Mashed  Potatoes.  Young  Onions. 

Belle’s  Bright  Thought. 

Coffee. 


Asparagus  Soup. 

Three  pints  of  soup  stock ; one  large  bunch  of  asparagus,  cut 
into  short  lengths,  the  woody  parts  by  themselves  ; one  cup  of  milk ; 


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273 


one  tablespoonful  of  butter,  rolled  in  one  of  prepared  flour ; pepper 
and  salt. 

Put  the  stock  over  the  fire  with  all  the  stalks  and  one-third  of 
the  green  heads ; cook  until  the  asparagus  can  be  rubbed  through 
a colander,  leaving  the  wood  behind ; rub  all  through  that  will  pass 
easily  ; return  the  soup  to  the  fire,  season,  and  bring  to  a boil ; drop 
in  the  reserved  heads  cut  into  inches ; cook  until  these  are  tender. 
In  another  vessel  heat  the  milk,  stir  in  the  floured  butter,  and  add 
to  the  soup.  Line  a tureen  with  dice  of  fried  bread,  and  pour  the 
soup  upon  them. 


Boiled  Bass. 

Clean  and  wash  the  fish,  but  do  not  split  it  or  remove  the  head 
and  tail ; sew  up  in  a piece  of  mosquito  netting  fitted  to  the  shape  of 
the  fish.  Have  in  the  fish-kettle  plenty  of  boiling  water,  in  which 
have  been  mixed  a few  tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar,  a dozen  pepper- 
corns, two  or  three  blades  of  mace,  and  a tablespoonful  of  salt. 
Cook  ten  minutes  for  each  pound,  and  ten  minutes  over.  Undo  the 
cloth,  lay  the  fish  on  a hot  dish  and  pour  over  it  a cup  of  drawn 
butter,  seasoned  with  a tablespoonful  of  capers  and  the  yolks  of  two 
hard  boiled  eggs,  chopped  fine.  Pass  mashed  potatoes  with  it. 


Roast  Sweetbreads  and  Peas. 

Wash  the  sweetbreads,  drop  into  boiling  water,  cook  for  fifteen 
minutes ; then  plunge  into  ice-cold  water,  and  leave  them  there  half 
an  hour.  Wipe  dry,  roll  in  beaten  egg,  then  in  cracker  crumbs. 
Lay  in  a dripping  pan ; pour  around  them  half  a cupful  of  boiling 
water  in  which  you  have  melted  a teaspoonful  of  butter ; cover,  and 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


bake  them  half  an  hour,  basting  several  times.  Remove  the  cover, 
and  brown.  Boil  the  peas  as  directed  in  a former  recipe,  drain,  butter 
pepper  and  salt  them,  heap  on  a hot  dish  and  lay  the  sweetbreads 
around  them. 


Young  Onions. 

Cut  off  the  tops,  wash,  remove  the  outer  layer  of  skin,  and  boil 
fifteen  minutes  in  fresh  hot  water.  Drain  this  off,  cover  the  onions 
with  milk  and  hot  water  in  equal  proportions,  salt  slightly,  and 
cook  ten  minutes  after  the  boil  recommences,  or  until  the  onions  are 
tender.  Drain,  barely  cover  with  hot  cream  or  rich  milk  in  which  a 
lump  of  butter  has  been  melted,  salt  and  pepper,  and  send  to  table. 
No  one  who  has  once  eaten  onions  cooked  in  this  way  will  ever  like 
those  prepared  (or  ruined)  after  the  ordinary  mode. 


Belle’s  Bright  Thought. 

One  package  of  Coxe’s  gelatine,  soaked  for  four  hours  in  a large 
cup  of  cold  water;  two  cups  of  boiling  water;  juice  of  a lemon; 
one  cup  of  pale  sherry ; two  cups  of  sugar ; whites  of  six  eggs ; 
three  pints  of  fine  strawberries. 

Put  soaked  gelatine,  sugar,  lemon  juice,  into  a bowl,  pour  in  the 
boiling  water,  stir  until  dissolved,  and  let  it  cool,  but  not  congeal, 
before  adding  the  wine.  Whip  the  whites  to  a stiff  froth,  and  beat 
in  a great  spoonful  of  the  jelly  at  a time,  setting  the  bowl  of 
meringue  in  ice-water  as  you  work.  When  all  the  jelly  is  in,  whip 
steadily  for  fifteen  minutes,  until  you  have  a white  sponge  which 
will  just  drop  from  a spoon.  Have  ready  a melon-shaped  mold,  or 
a round  bottomed  bowl  wet  with  cold  water,  and  lined  evenly  with 
strawberries,  capped  and  rolled  in  sugar.  As  you  cover  the  bottom, 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


275 


pour  in  enough  of  the  snowy  sponge  to  keep  them  in  place,  building 
up  the  lining  and  filling  thus  until  the  mold  is  full.  Set  on  ice  for 
five  or  six  hours.  Loosen  around  the  edges  with  persuasive  finger- 
tips, turn  out  on  a cold  dish,  sprinkle  with  powdered  sugar  as  you 
serve,  cut  in  careful  perpendicular  slices,  and  send  around  cream 
with  it.  For  cream  you  may  substitute  custard  if  you  like.  A 
beautiful  and  delicious  dessert,  and  easily  made. 


N0.6. 

BREAKFAST. 

Wheat  Germ  Meal.  Broiled  Shad.  Melissa’s  Shortcake. 

Baked  Potatoes.  Bread  and  Butter.  Berries. 

Tea  and  Coffeee. 


Wheat  Germ  Meal. 

This  breakfast  cereal  is  less  heating  than  oatmeal,  less  laxative 
than  wheaten  grits,  and  more  palatable  than  either.  To  one  quart 
of  boiling  water,  add  one  small  cupful  of  wheat  germ  meal,  with  a 
half-teaspoonful  of  salt.  Stir,  and  cook  in  the  farina-kettle  for 
fifteen  minutes^  Eat  with  sugar  and  cream,  or  with  cream  alone. 


Broiled  Shad. 

Clean,  wash  and  split  the  fish  down  the  back.  Lay  on  a well- 
buttered  gridiron,  skin  upward,  and  broil  over  a clear  fire,  lifting  a 
moment  should  it  drip  on  the  coals  or  brown  into  burn.  Turn  the 
fish  when  the  inside  is  browned.  When  it  is  done — from  twenty  to 
twenty-five  minutes  should  sufl&ce  for  a fair-sized  shad — lay  on  a 


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HOlJvSR  AND  HOME 


hot  platter,  and  rub  with  a sauce  made  by  beating  a tablcspoonful 
of  blitter  light  with  pepper,  salt  and  finely  minced  parsley,  adding, 
if  you  like,  a little  lemon  juice.  Garnish  with  parsley. 


Melissa’s  Shortcake. 

One  quart  of  Hecker’s  prepared  flour;  half  a cupful  of  butter; 
one  even  tcaspooufiil  of  salt ; two  cups  of  milk. 

If  you  can  get  a cup  of  cream,  put  half  the  quantity  of  milk  and 
less  butter.  * Sift  the  salt  with  the  flour,  chop  in  the  butter  until 
you  have  a yellow  dust,  wet  with  the  milk  and  roll  out  with  as 
little  handling  as  possible,  half-an-inch  thick.  Bake  in  broad, 
shallow  pans  well  greased.  When  done,  cut  into  squares,  split 
and  butter  while  hot,  and  send  at  once  to  table. 


LUNCHEON. 

Scalloped  Fish.  Baked  Potatoee. 

Deviled  Biscuits. 

Pop  Overs.  Chocolate. 


Scalloped  Fish. 

One  heaping  cupful  of  cold,  boiled  fish,  picked  into  fine  flakes 
with  a fork  ; one  cupful  of  drawn  butter ; one  tablespoonful  of 
minced  parsley  ; pepper  and  salt ; half-cupful  of  fine  crumbs  ; one 
tablespoon  fill  of  grated  cheese. 

Mix  all  well  together  except  the  crumbs,  turn  into  a greased 
bake-dish,  strew  crumbs  on  top,  and  brown  quickly  in  the 


oven. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


277 


Deviled  Biscuits. 

Split  stale  rolls  or  biscuits,  and  toast  to  a light  brown  on  the 
upper  grating  of  the  oven.  Prepare  a mixture  of  one  cupful  of 
dry  cheese,  grated  fine  (Parmesan,  if  you  can  get  it),  one  table- 
spoonful of  best  salad  oil,  half  a teaspoonful  of  mustard,  half  a 
teaspoonful  of  salt,  a mere  pinch  of  cayenne,  and  the  yolks  of  three 
eggs  beaten  smooth.  Incorporate  faithfully  ; spread  on  the  inside 
of  the  biscuits ; set  them  in  a quick  oven  to  get  heated  through^ 
and  serve,  covered  with  a napkin. 


Pop  Overs. 

One  quart  of  prepared  flour  (Hecker’s  is  best)  ; one  quart  of 
milk ; four  eggs ; one  tablespoonful  of  melted  butter ; one  tea- 
spoonful  of  salt. 

Beat  the  yolks  light,  and  .mix  with  the  salted  milk  ; add  the 
butter,  then  flour,  and  whipped  whites  alternately.  Do  all  this 
briskly  ; fill  one  dozen  stoneware  cups  with  the  batter,  and  bake  in 
a quick  oven.  Serve  in  the  cups,  and  eat  with  liquid  sauce.  They 
should  not  stand  one  minute  when  you  have  taken  them  from  the 
oven,  but  be  served  at  once. 


DINNER. 

Mulligatawney  Soup.  Imitation  Terrapin. 

Mashed  Potatoes.  Succotash. 

Marmalade  Pudding.  Fruit..  Coffee. 


Mulligatawney  Soup. 

Two  quarts  of  the  liquor  in  which  a calf’s  head  has  been  boiled, 
simmered  down  to  three  pints ; half  an  onion  \ a blade  of  mace ; 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


juice  of  a lemon ; half  a cupful  of  raw  rice,  soaked  in  a cupful  of 
cold  water  for  two  hours ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter,  cut  up  in 
one  of  flour ; one  teaspoonful  of  curry  powder. 

Strain  the  liquor  through  a cloth,  put  in  the  mace,  chopped 
onion  and  rice,  and  cook  until  the  latter  is  very  tender.  Wet  the 
curry  powder  with  the  lemon-juice,  and  when  you  have  stirred  it  in, 
add  the  floured  butter.  Boil  sharply  for  one  minute,  and  serve. 


Imitation  Terrapin. 

Boil  a calf’s  head  the  day  before  you  wish  to  make  soup  and 
this  dish,  and  let  it  get  cold  in  the  liquor.  Slice  the  meat  from  the 
head,  and  cut  into  dice.  Mince  the  tongue  fine,  and  make  into 
forcemeat-balls  with  fine  crumbs,  pepper,  salt,  and  a raw  egg.  Roll 
in  beaten  egg,  then  in  flour,  and  leave  in  a cold  place  until  you  are 
ready  for  them.  Season  a large  cupful  of  liquor  sharply  with 
Worcestershire  sauce  and  salt,  stir  in  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter 
rolled  in  as  much  browned  flour,  and  bring  to  a boil.  Put  in  the 
meat,  and  stew  gently  ten  minutes  before  adding  the  juice  of  a 
lemon  and  a glass  of  brown  sherry.  Lastly,  drop  in  the  forcemeat 
balls,  cover  the  saucepan  closely,  and  set  in  boiling  water  for  ten 
minutes  before  dishing.  The  yolks  of  half  a dozen  hard-boiled 
eggs  improve  this  dish. 


Succotash. 

Empty  a can  of  corn,  and  one  of  string  beans,  several  hours 
before  you  wish  to  use  them,  draining  off  the  liquor  from  both.  Put 
together  into  a saucepan  half  an  hour  before  dinner,  and  barely 
cover  with  milk  and  water  in  equal  parts,  boiling  hot  and  slightly 
salted.  Cook  gently  twenty  minutes,  and  stir  in  a tablespoonful  of 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


279 


butter  rolled  in  one  of  flour.  Season  with  pepper  and  salt,  stew  ten 
minutes  more  and  dish.  You  may  substitute  Lima  for  string  beans 
if  you  like. 


Marmalade  Pudding. 

One  quart  of  milk  ; four  eggs  ; one  cup  of  sugar ; slices  of  stale 
bread,  buttered. 

Fruit  marmalade, — peach  is  best  if  you  have  it,  but  apple, 
quince  or  raspberry  will  do  if  you  have  not.  Scald  the  milk,  and 
pour  it  on  the  eggs,  which  should  have  been  beaten  light  with  the 
sugar.  Return  to  the  farina  kettle,  and  cook  five  minutes,  but  not 
until  the  custard  thickens.  Cut  the  bread  an  inch  thick,  pare  off 
the  crust,  butter  on  both  sides,  and  cover  the  bottom  of  a pudding- 
dish  with  slices  fitted  in  neatly.  Spread  the  marmalade  thickly  on 
this  layer,  and  wet  with  the  boiling  custard,  waiting  to  see  it 
absorbed  before  putting  another  layer  above  it.  Proceed  in  this 
order  until  all  the  materials  are  used  up.  Fit  a plate,  or  other  lid, 
on  the  bake-dish  and  let  the  whole  stand  for  half  an  hour,  to 
absorb  the  custard  before  it  goes  into  the  oven.  Bake,  covered, 
until  the  pudding  is  heated  through,  then,  brown  nicely.  Eat 
cold  with  cream.  This  excellent  pudding  may  be  made  more 
elegant  by  whipping  the  whites  of  three  eggs  to  a meringue  with 
a tablespoonful  of  powdered  sugar,  and  spreading  it  over  the  top 
after  it  begins  to  brown.  Shut  the  oven  door  until  the  meringue  is 
faintly  colored. 


Fruit. 

With  the  approach  of  the  warmer  weather,  the  prudent  housewife 
will  pay  more  attention  to  this  part  of  her  menu.  Make  the  dish  of 
cooling,  anti-bilious  fruits  attractive  by  selection  and  arrangement. 


28o 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Nuts  belong  to  winter-time  when  fats  are  needed  to  produce  carbon. 
Raisins,  always  nnwliolesome,  clog  digestion  weakened  by  “ spring 
fever,”  and  irritate  morbid  livers.  “ Eating-apples  ” are  nearly  out 
of  season,  but  oranges  and  bananas  valiantly  relieve  guard  between 
them  and  the  grapes  and  late  pears  that  lasted  after  the  holidays, 
and  the  coming  berries.  The  juice  of  a lemon,  mixed  with  four 
times  as  much  water,  unsugared,  and  drunk  just  before  bedtime, 
will  do  more  to  counteract  malarial  influences  and  correct  a surplus- 
age of  bile  than  a dozen  blue  pills. 


No.  r. 

BREAKFAST. 

Graham  Flakes.  Apples  and  Bacon.  Corn  Bread. 

Baked  Potatoes.  Fruit.  Coffee.  Tea. 


Graham  Flakes. 

These  are  otherwise  known  as  “ Granulated  Graham,”  and  fur- 
nish a pleasant  variety  in  the  list  of  breakfast  cereals.  They  can 
be  prepared  at  five  minutes’  notice.  Put  a scant  cupful  in  a deep 
dish ; cover  with  a quart  of  boiling  milk  and  water ; put  on  the 
dish-top,  set  in  hot  water,  and  let  the  flakes  swell  until  you  are  ready 
to  dish  them.  Add  salt  if  you  like.  Eat  with  cream  and  sugar. 


Apples  and  Bacon. 

Core  and  slice  tart  apples,  but  do  not  peel  them.  Fry  thin 
slices  of  breakfast  bacon  until  clear  and  “ ruffled.”  Take  them  up 
and  keep  warm  while  you  fry  the  sliced  apples  in  the  bacon  fat  to  a 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


281 


light  brown.  Lay  the  apples  in  the  middle  of  a heated  platter,  and 
dispose  the  bacon  about  them  as  a garnish.  Drain  both  meat  and 
apples  in  a hot  colander  before  dishing  them. 


Corn  Bread. 

One-and-a-half  cups  of  white  Indian  meal,  and  half  as  much 
flour ; four  eggs  whipped  light ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  melted  but- 
ter ; one  tablespoonful  of  sugar ; two  teaspoonfuls  of  baking 
powder,  sifted  twice  with  the  flour  and  meal ; two  cups  of  milk ; 
one  even  teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Stir  sugar  and  butter  together  to  a cream  ; add  the  beaten  eggs ; 
beat  two  minutes,  and  put  in  the  milk  and  salt ; last  of  all,  the 
meal  and  flour  mixed  together,  and  sifted  with  the  baking  powder: 
beat  up  one  minute  to  aerate  it  thoroughly,  and  pour  into  a shallow 
pan.  Bake  steadily,  rather  than  fast,  and  eat  hot,  cutting  it  into 
squares. 


LUNCHEON. 

Salmon  Fingers.  Dressed  Potatoes. 

Crackers.  Cheese.  Olives 

Corn  Starch  Hasty-Pudding. 
Hasty-Pudding  Sauce. 


Salmon  Fingers. 

Soak  a pound  of  smoked  salmon  four  or  five  hours  in  tepid 
water,  >when  you  have  scrubbed  off  the  incrusting  salt.  Lay  then  in 
cold  water,  and  bring  it  to  a gentle  boil.  Take  out  the  salmon  and 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


cover  with  ice-cold  water,  leaving  it  tluis  for  fifteen  minutes,  chang- 
ing the  water  once  for  colder.  Wipe  the  fish  dry,  and  cut  with  a 
keen  blade  into  strips  about  the  length  of  your  middle  finger,  and 
an  inch  wide.  Have  ready  in  a dish  some  melted  butter  in  which 
have  been  mixed  the  juice  of  a lemon,  a teaspoonful  of  Harvey’s,  or 
Worcestershire  sauce,  and  a jDinch  of  cayenne.  Turn  the  strips  of  fish 
over  in  this,  until  well  coated,  then,  roll  in  flour  and  fry  in  hot 
dripping.  Arrange  symmetrically  on  a hot  dish.  This  is  a piquant 
relish  and  easily  prepared. 

' Dressed  Potatoes. 

Bake  large  Irish  potatoes,  turning  them  several  times  to  keep 
the  skin  whole.  When  they  yield  to  a hard  pinch,  cut  a piece  from 
the  top  of  each,  scrape  out  the  insides  carefully,  and  whip  to  a 
smooth  paste  with  a little  milk,  butter,  grated  cheese,  salt  and  pep- 
per. Work  the  potato  until  it  looks  like  cream,  fill  the  skins  with 
it  put  back  the  caps  on  the  cut  ends,  and  set  the  potatoes  upright  in  a 
hot  oven  for  three  or  four  minutes.  Line  a deep  dish  with  a napkin, 
and  send  the  potatoes  in  it  to  table. 


Corn  Starch  Hasty-Pudding. 

One  quart  of  boiling  milk  ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  corn  starch ; 
one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter. 

Wet  the  corn  starch  with  cold  milk  and  stir  into  the  boiling. 
Cook  in  a farina  kettle  ten  minutes,  beat  in  the  butter  and,  this 
dissolved  and  incorporated,  turn  into  an  open  deep  dish. 


Hasty-Pudding  Sauce. 

One  cup  of  hot  milk  ; one  cup  of  sugar  ; two  eggs  ; one  table- 
spoonful of  butter. 


283 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Stir  the  butter  into  the  boiling  milk,  add  the  sugar,  and  pour 
this  on  the  beaten  eggs.  Return  to  the  cnstard-kettle  and  stir 
until  it  begins  to  thicken.  Flavor  with  vanilla,  adding,  if  yon  like, 
nutmeg,  and  set  in  hot,  not  boiling,  water  until  needed. 


DINNER. 

Fish  Bisque.  Roast  Sweetbreads. 

Imitation  Spaghetti. 

Rice  and  Tomato.  Graziella  Pudding. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Fish  Bisque. 

Strain  the  water  in  which  fresh  cod  or  halibut  has  been  boiled, 
through  a cloth,  season  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  set  away  in  a 
cold  place  for  next  day’s  dinner.  Of  this  make  a bisque  as  directed 
below. 

To  a quart  of  the  liquor,  heated  to  boiling,  add  a cupful  of  the 
cold  fish  left  over,  minced  very  fine ; when  it  has  simmered  five 
minutes,  stir  in  three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  flour 
and  a tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley.  Have  ready  in  another 
vessel  a cup  of  hot  milk  in  which  a scant  cup  of  dry  crumbs  has 

been  stirred,  with  a bit  of  soda  no  larger  than  a pea.  Mix  these 

with  the  soup,  stirring  all  together  well,  simmer  one  minute,  and 
serve.  If  made  exactly  according  to  the  directions  given  and  well 
seasoned,  this  bisque  will  be  very  good.  Send  sliced  lemon  and 
crackers  around  with  it. 

Roast  Sweetbreads. 

Parboil  the  sweetbreads  by  cooking  them  for  ten  minutes  in 
boiling  salted  water.  Drop  them  into  a bowl  of  ice-water  and  leave 


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HOUS?:  AND  HOME. 


them  stand  there  fifteen  niinntes,  chanp^ini>'  tlio  water  as  it  warms. 
Wipe  dry,  roll  in  salted  and  peppered  flour,  and  arrange  in  dripping 
pan.  Put  a teaspoonfiil  of  butter  on  each,  and  roast  forty-five 
minutes,  basting  often  with  biitter-and-water.  Take  np,  and  keep 
hot  in  a chafing-dish  while  you  strain  the  gravy  into  a saucepan  ; 
add  a little  hot  water,  and  a tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  one 
of  browned  flour.  Season  and  boil  up,  add  half  a can  of  mush- 
rooms, cut  in  halves,  cook  three  minutes,  and  pour  over  the 
sweetbreads. 


Imitation  Spaghetti. 

Boil  and  mash  potatoes,  adding  salt  and  butter,  but  only  a table- 
spoonful of  milk,  as  you  want  a stiff  paste.  Rub  this  through  a 
colander  into  a buttered  pie  or  pudding  dish.  It  will  fall  in  small^ 
pipe-like  shapes.  Leave  them  as  they  lie,  and,  when  all  the  potato 
has  passed  through,  set  the  dish  on  the  upper  grating  of  the  oven 
to  brown  delicately. 

Rice  and  Tomato. 

Boil  a cupful  of  rice  in  salted  water  (plenty  of  it) , shaking  now 
and  then  until  each  grain  is  tender,  but  whole.  Have  ready  a 
cupful  of  stewed  and  strained  tomatoes,  well  seasoned  with  butter, 
pepper,  salt  and  some  minute  atoms  of  onion.  Dish  the  rice,  stir  a 
generous  tablespoonful  of  butter  through  it,  with  two  of  grated 
cheese.  Mix  well,  and  poiir  tlie  tomato  sauce  over  all.  Set  in  hot 
water  for  five  minutes,  covered,  and  serve.  A little  gravy  is  an 
improvement  to  the  sauce. 

Graziella  Pudding. 

Half  a pound  of  figs  ; two  cups  of  fine  bread  crumbs  ; one  half- 
cup of  ])owdercd  suet;  two  cups  of  milk;  one  half-cup  of  sugar; 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


285 


four  eggs  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  flour ; a good  pincb  of  cinnamon ; 
bit  of  soda,  tbe  size  of  a pea,  in  tbe  milk ; one  balf-teaspoonful  of 
salt. 

Cover  tbe  crumbs  with  tbe  milk,  and  let  them  soak  while  you 
prepare  tbe  rest  of  tbe  materials.  Mince  tbe  figs,  wben  you  bave 
washed  and  dried  them.  Beat  tbe  eggs  light  and  add  to  tbe  soaked 
crumbs,  next,  tbe  sugar  and  spice  and  salt,  and,  finally,  tbe  figs 
dredged  with  tbe  two  tablespoonfuls  of  flour.  (All  tbe  flour  must 
go  in.)  Beat  very  bard  from  tbe  bottom  to  tbe  top,  pour  into  a 
buttered  mold,  fit  on  a close  lid,  and  steam  for  three  hours.  Dip 
tbe  mold  into  cold  water  for  a second,  turn  out,  and  eat  with  bard 
sauce. 

No.  8. 

BREAKFAST. 

Hominy.  Pop-overs. 

. Eggs  in  Toast  Cups. 

Stewed  Potatoes.  Strawberries. 

Tea.  Coffee. 


Pop-overs. 

One  pint  of  Hecker’s  prepared  flour,  sifted  with  half  a teaspoonful 
of  salt ; two  cups  of  rich  milk  ; two  eggs. 

Sift  flour  into  a bowl ; beat  tbe  yolks  light,  stir  tbe  milk  and 
flour  into  this.  Lastly,  add  tbe  whites  whipped  stiff.  Bake 
immediately  in  heated  and  greased  “ gem  ” or  muffin  tins.  Send  at 
once  to  tbe  table. 


Eggs  in  Toast-Cups. 

Slice  stale  bread  three-quarters  of  an  inch  thick,  and  cut  with  a 
large  cake-cutter,  or  tumbler,  into  rounds  Press  a small  cutter  on 


286 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


these  about  half  the  way  through,  and  scrape  out  the  crumb  from 
the  inner  circles,  leaving  sides  and  bottoms  unbroken.  Set  in  the 
oven  to  dry  for  ten  minutes  ; take  them  out  and  let  them  cool. 
Have  ready  some  salted  lard  or  dripping  in  a frying-pan  ; put  in 
the  bread-cups  when  it  is  hissing  hot,  and  fry  to  a light  brown. 
Take  out,  drain  off  the  fat,  arrange  on  a hot  dish,  and  lay  a poached 
egg  in  the  cavity  of  each.  I regret  that  I do  not  now  recall  the  name 
of  the  maker  of  a convenient  utensil  called,  “ an  egg  poacher.”  It 
is  to  be  bought  at  house-furnishing  stores,  and  greatly  simplifies  the 
business  of  poaching  eggs  nicely,  and  with  smooth  edges. 


Strawberries. 

Serve  the  larger  varieties,  whole,  with  the  caps  on.  Send 
around  powdered  sugar  with  them,  and  let  each  person  help  him- 
self, dipping  the  berries,  one  by  one,  in  a little  heap  of  sugar  on  his 
plate  and  eating  them  from  the  caps. 


LUNCHEON. 

Savory  Rice  and  Brains. 

Tomato  and  Lettuce  Salad.  Crackers  and  Cheese. 

Cold  Bread  and  Butter. 

Ambrosia.  Light  Cakes. 

Savory  Rice  and  Brains. 

One  cup  of  rice ; one  cup  of  skimmed  gravy  or  broth,  well 
seasoned  ; one  pint  of  boiling  water ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  grated 
cheese  ; salt  and  pepper ; one  egg ; brains  of  a calf. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


287 


Soak  tlie  rice  three  hours  in  cold  water ; drain,  and  put  over  the 
fire  in  a farina  kettle,  with  the  broth  and  hot  water.  Cook  until 
tender,  shaking  up  now  and  then,  but  do  not  put  a spoon  into  it. 
When  done,  it  should  be  quite  dry.  Drain  in  a fine-holed 
colander ; mound  on  a platter ; sift  powdered  cheese  over  it, 
and  let  it  brown  slightly  on  the  upper  grating  of  the  oven.  To 
prepare  the  brains,  boil  them  fifteen  minutes  in  salted  hot  water, 
throw  them  into  cold,  and  leave  them  there  as  long ; dry,  mash 
them  to  a paste  with  a beaten  egg ; pepper  and  salt  them ; stir  in  a 
teaspoonful  of  flour,  and  drop,  a spoonful  at  a time,  into  hot  fat. 
Drain,  when  nicely  browned,  and  lay  around  the  hillock  of  rice. 

Tomato  and  Lettuce  Salad. 

Pick  out  the  crispest  leaves  of  lettuce ; lay  a raw  tomato,  peeled 
and  cut  in  half  (horizontally)  on  each ; arrange  on  a cold  dish ; 
scatter  cracked  ice  among  the  leaves,  and  send  to  table.  In  serving, 
pour  mayonnaise  dressing  over  the  tomato. 

Ambrosia. 

Pare  and  cut  (or  pull)  a ripe  pineapple  into  small  pieces.  Put  a 
layer  in  a dish ; sugar  well ; cover  with  grated  cocoanut ; lay  in 
more  sugared  pineapple,  and  so  on,  until  the  materials  are  used  up, 
covering  the  top  thickly  with  cocoanut.  Pass  sponge,  or  other  light 
cake  with  it. 


DINNER. 

Clam  Soup.  Leg  of  Mutton,  with  Caper  Sauce. 

Lobster  Salad,  with  Cream  Mayonnaise, 

Mashed  Potatoes.  Green  Peas, 

Crushed-Strawberry  Ice-Cream. 

White  Cake.  Coffee. 


288 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Clam  Soup. 


One  quart  of  clam  liquor  ; fifty  clams  ; one  cupful  of  boiling 
water ; one  pint  of  milk ; two  generous  tablespooufuls  of  butter 
rolled  ill  flour ; a teaspooiiful,  each,  of  minced  parsley  and  onion  ; 
a pinch  of  mace ; pepper  and  salt  to  taste. 

Put  the  liquor,  water,  onion,  and  the  hard  part  of  the  clams 
over  the  fire  ; stir  gently  for  twenty  minutes  after  the  boil  begins ; 
strain  and  season  ; return  to  to  the  fire  with  the  soft  parts  of  the 
clams,  chopped  fine,  and  boil  slowly  twenty  minutes  longer.  Have 
ready  the  milk,  scalding  hot,  in  another  vessel ; stir  in  the  floured 
butter,  cook  two  minutes,  add  the  clam  soup  and  turn  into  the 
tureen,  which  should  be  lined  with  split  Boston  crackers,  dipped  in 
hot  milk,  then  buttered. 


Lkg  of  Mutton,  with  Caper  Sauce. 

Wash  with  vinegar,  peeling  off  as  much  of  the  tough  outer  skin 
as  will  come  away  easily ; boil,  twelve  minutes  to  the  pound,  in  a 
pot  of  hot  salted  water ; take  out,  wipe  all  over  with  a clean  cloth 
and  rub  with  butter.  For  the  sauce,  take  out  a large  cupful  of  the 
liquor  half  an  hour  before  the  meat  is  done ; set  the  vessel  contain- 
ing this  in  cold  water  to  throw  up  the  fat ; skim  carefully,  strain 
into  a saucepan,  bring  to  a boil,  stir  in  a great  spoonful  of  butter 
rubbed  in  as  much  flour.  When  it  has  cooked  three  minutes,  add 
two  tablespoonfuls  of  capers. 


Lobster  Salad — with  Cream  Mayonnaise. 

Meat  of  two  lobsters  picked  out  and  cut,  not  chopped,  up ; one 
large  cup  of  mayonnaise  dressing;  one  cup  of  whipped  cream; 
lettuce. 


I 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


289 


Make  the  mayonnaise  dressing  by  whipping  the  yolks  of  five 
eggs  thick,  then  adding  half  a cup  of  best  salad  oil,  drop  by  drop, 
until  you  have  a smooth,  batter-like  mixture  ; beat  in,  then,  two 
tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar,  gradually, — a pinch  of  cayenne,  and 
half  a saltspoonful  of  salt ; keep  the  mixing-bowl  on  ice  while  pre- 
paring the  dressing,  and  leave  it  there  while  you  sprinkle  the 
lobster  with  salt,  pepper  and  vinegar.  Heap  it  in  a bowl  lined  with 
crisp  lettuce  leaves.  Do  this  just  before  serving  it;  beat  the 
whipped  cream  into  the  dressing,  cover  the  lobster  thickly  with  it, 
and  send  it  to  table. 


Crushed-Strawberry  Ice-Cream. 

Mash  a quart  of  strawberries,  sweeten  very  liberally,  and  stir 
them  into  two  quarts  of  half-frozen  custard,  made  in  the  proportion 
of  six  eggs  and  a heaping  half  pint  of  sugar  to  each  quart  of 
milk.  Beat  the  berries  in  thoroughly,  and  freeze  quickly. 
Delicious  / 


White  Cake. 

Three  cups  of  sugar ; one  cup  of  butter ; one  half-cup  of  milk ; 
whites  of  nine  eggs  ; one  quart  of  Hecker’s  prepared  flour ; essence  of 
vanilla,  or  bitter  almond. 

FOR  ICING  AND  FITTING. 

Whites  of  three  eggs;  three  cups  of  powdered  sugar;  juice 
and  grated  peel  of  a lemon. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  whip  in  the  milk,  essence,  the 
flour  and  stiffened  whites  by  turns  ; bake  in  jelly  cake  tins,  and 
when  cool,  spread  the  icing  between  and  on  top. 


290 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
No.  O. 
BREAKFAST. 


Milk  and  Rice  Porridge. 

Shad  au  gratin.  Aunt  Cliloe’s  Muffins. 

Fried  Potatoes.  Berries. 

Tea.  Coffee. 

Milk  and  Rice  Porridge. 

One  scant  cup  of  rice,  soaked  over  night  in  cold  water;  one 
quart  of  milk  : one-half  teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Put  salted  milk  and  rice  together  in  a farina  kettle,  fit  on  a close 
top,  and  keep  the  water  in  the  outer  vessel  at  a steady  boil  for  one 
hour,  shaking  up  vigorously,  now  and  then,  but  not  stirring. 
Turn  out  and  eat  with  cream,  and  if  you  like,  sugar. 


Shad  au  gratin. 

Clean,  split  and  cut  a shad  into  eight  pieces,  four  for  each  side, 
sprinkle  with  salt  and  pepper,  roll  in  beaten  egg,  then  in  fine 
cracker  crumbs,  and  fry  in  hot  lard  or  dripping;  drain  off  the 
grease.  Serve  on  a hot  dish  garnished  with  sliced  lemon  and 
sprigs  of  parsley. 

Aunt  Chloe’s  Muffins. 

One  even  quart  of  sifted  flour ; one  quart  of  buttermilk ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  Indian  meal ; one  teaspoonful  of  soda,  and  one  of 
salt,  sifted  three  times  with  the  meal  and  flour ; two  well-beaten 
eggs;  one  even  tablespoonful  of  sugar. 

Beat  the  eggs,  mix  with  the  sugar,  then  with  the  milk  ; add  the 
flour  sifted  with  soda  and  salt,  beat  hard  one  minute,  and  bake  at 
once  in  muffin  rings  on  a hot  griddle. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

LUNCHEON. 


291 


Chicken  Croquettes. 

Home-made  Crackers.  Lettuce  Salad. 

Bread.  Cheese.  Olives. 

Cornmeal  Cup  Cake. 


Chicken  Croquettes. 

Two  pounds  of  cold  chicken  without  bones,  or  one  can  of  boned 
chicken ; one  cup  of  cold  mashed  potato — made  soft  with  milk  ; 
two  eggs  ; half  a cup  of  gravy,  or  drawn  butter ; salt  and  pepper ; 
cracker  crumbs  ; dripping  for  frying. 

Chop  the  chicken  very  fine,  mix  with  the  gravy,  and  season. 
Beat  in  the  eggs,  then  the  potato,  and  stir  until  smoking  hot,  in  a 
buttered  frying  pan.  Let  the  mixture  cool  quickly.  Make  into 
croquettes,  roll  in  fine  cracker  dust  and  fry  in  plenty  of  nice  fat. 


Home-Made  Crackers. 

One  quart  of  prepared  flour;  three  good  tablespoonfuls  of 
butter ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar  ; one  pint  of  milk  ; one  half 
teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Rub  the  butter  into  the  flour,  put  the  sugar  with  the  milk,  mix 
into  stiff  dough,  lay  on  the  floured  pastry  board,  and  beat  from  end 
to  end  with  the  rolling  pin,  stopping  every  five  minutes,  or  so,  to 
shift  the  mass,  and  double  it  over  upon  itself.  Keep  this  up  for 
twenty  minutes ; roll  into  a sheet,  less  than  a quarter  of  an  inch 
thick,  cut  into  round  cakes,  prick  these  deeply  with  a fork,  and 
bake  in  a moderate  oven.  They  are  better  the  second  day  than  the 
first. 


292 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Lettuce  Salad. 


Pick  over  tlie  lettuce,  selecting  the  crisp,  young  leaves,  wavSh 
them  and  lay  in  ice-water  for  fifteen  minutes  before  sending  to  the 
table  in  a glass  bowl.  Send  with  it  a salad  dish  lined  with  a napkin. 
Pick  the  larger  leaves  to  pieces,  and  fill  the  salad  bowl  with  them. 
Gather  up  the  corners  of  the  napkin,  shake  it  lightly,  and  turn  out 
the  lettuce  into  the  bowl.  Season  with  pepper,  salt,  sugar,  vinegar 
and  oil ; toss  up  well  with  a salad  fork  and  spoon,  and  send  around 
at  once.  Salad  left  three  minutes  in  the  dressing  begins  to  wilt 
and  toughen. 


CoRNMEAL  Cup  Cake. 


Two  even  cups  of  white  Indian  meal ; half  a cup  of  wheat  flour; 
four  tablespoonfuls  of  powdered  sugar ; four  beaten  eggs  ; one 
tablespoonful  of  butter ; half  a teaspoonful  of  soda ; one  teaspoonful 
of  cream  tartar  ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt,  sifted  with  meal  and  flour  ; 
one-half  teaspoonful  of  mixed  mace  and  cinnamon ; one  quart  of 
boiling  milk. 

Stir  flour,  meal,  salt,  soda,  cream  tartar  into  the  hot  milk ; heat 
for  fifteen  minutes  in  a farina  kettle  surrounded  with  boiling  water, 
stirring  all  the  time ; add  the  butter,  turn  out  and  beat  hard ; let 
the  mixture  get  cold  before  beating  in  the  eggs,  whipped  light  with 
sugar  and  spice ; stir  hard  and  bake  in  buttered  patty  pans ; turn 
out  and  eat  warm  with  butter. 


DINNER. 

White  Soup. 


Veal  and  Ham  Cutlets. 
Young  Beets. 


Asparagus. 


Strawberry  Trifle. 


Coffee. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
White  Soup. 


293 


Three  pounds  of  a “ knuckle  ” of  veal,  bones  broken,  and  meat 
minced  ; one  half-cup  of  raw  rice  ; three  quarts  of  water ; two  table- 
spoonfuls  of  butter,  rubbed  in  flour  ; half  an  onion  chopped ; three 
eggs  ; one  cup  of  milk  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  minced  parsley ; salt 
and  pepper  to  taste. 

Put  water,  meat,  bones,  rice  and  onions  over  the  fire,  and  boil 
very  slowly  for  four  hours.  Strain,  pick  out  meat  and  bones  and 
rub  the  rice  through  a fine  colander.  Season,  return  to  the  fire, 
boil  up,  skim  well,  and  put  in  parsley  and  butter.  Heat  the  milk 
in  a saucepan,  pour  upon  the  beaten  eggs,  and  stir  into  the  soup, 
removing  the  latter  from  the  fire  as  soon  as  they  are  fairly  mixed 
together. 


Veal  and  Ham  Cutlets. 

Cut  generous  slices  of  cold  boiled  ham,  and  fry  them  in  their 
own  fat,  remove  to  a hot  chafing  dish,  and  in  the  same  fat,  adding  a 
little  lard,  cook  the  cutlets  when  you  have  beaten  them  flat  with 
the  broad  side  of  a hatchet,  salted  and  peppered,  then  dipped  them  in 
egg  and  cracker  crumbs.  Lay  them  in  overlapping  alternation 
with  the  ham  on  a hot  dish. 


Asparagus. 

Cut  off  about  two  inches  of  the  woody  end  of  each  stalk,  tie  the 
tender  “ bud  ” ends  into  bundles  of  six  stalks  each,  and  boil  tender — 
about  thirty  minutes,  if  large,  in  hot,  salted  water.  Have  ready 
slices  of  crustless  toast  on  a hot  dish,  wet  with  the  water  in 
which  the  asparagus  was  cooked ; lay  the  stalks  on  them,  and  pour 
.drawn  butter  over  all. 


294 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Young  Beets. 


Cut  off  the  tops,  not  too  near  the  root,  wash,  without  scraping 
or  peeling,  and  cook  from  forty  minutes  to  an  hour  in  hot,  salted 
water.  Scrape  off  the  skins,  slice  and  dish,  then  cover  them  with 
a dressing  made  by  heating  four  tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar  with  a 
heaping  tablespoonful  of  butter,  salt  and  pepper  to  liking. 


Strawberry  Trifle. 

One  stale  sponge  cake,  sliced  ; four  eggs,  whites  and  yolks 
beaten  separately  ; four  cups  of  milk  ; one  cup  of  sugar ; three  pints 
of  fresh  strawberries. 

Scald  the  milk,  beat  in  the  sugar  and  yolks,  and  cook,  until  it 
begins  to  thicken — about  ten  minutes.  Let  it  get  cold.  Cover  the 
bottom  of  a glass  dish  with  sliced  cake,  wet  with  cold  custard  and 
strew  with  berries,  sprinkle  with  sugar,  cover  with  cake,  wet  this 
with  custard,  more  berries,  sugared,  and  so  on  until  the  cake  is  used 
up.  Pour  in  all  the  custard,  beat  the  whites  to  a meringue  with  a 
tablespoonful  of  powdered  sugar,  and  heap  on  the  top  of  the  dish, 
sticking  a few  choice  berries  in  the  white  mound.  Set  on  ice  until 
needed.  It  should  be  eaten  soon  after  the  berries  go  in. 


No.  lo. 

BREAKFAST. 

Oatmeal  Gruel.  Curried  Eggs. 

Flapjacks.  Baked  Potatoes.  Cold  Bread. 

Fruit.  Coffee.  Tea. 


295 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Oatmeal  Gruel. 
f One  even  cup  of  fresh  oatmeal ; one  pint  of  cold  water ; one 
pint  of  milk ; one  even  teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Wet  the  oatmeal  with  the  water,  and  set  over  the  fire  in  a farina 
kettle,  stirring  often,  and,  as  it  stiffens,  beating  in  a cupful  of  milk  ; 
stir  steadily  five  minutes  after  it  reaches  the  boil,  adding  gradually 
the  rest  of  the  milk.  Cook,  in  all,  half  an  hour,  dating  from  the 
scalding  point.  Turn  out,  and  eat  with  sugar  and  cream. 


Curried  Eggs. 

Put  a teaspoonful  of  minced  onion  into  a cupful  of  weak  broth ; 
let  it  boil,  strain  out  the  onion,  put  the  broth  into  a deep  frying-pan, 
season  well,  and  poach  six  or  eight  eggs  in  it  until  the  whites  are 
firm ; remove  them  with  a skimmer,  and  lay  on  rounds  of  buttered 
toast  in  a heated  platter.  Pour  half  a cupful  of  hot  milk  in  the 
bottom  of  the  dish,  and  let  the  toast  soak  it  up  while  you  make  the 
sauce.  Do  this  by  stirring  into  the  broth  in  the  frying-pan  a table- 
spoonful of  butter  and,  as  it  dissolves,  a good  teaspoonful  of  curry 
powder  wet  up  with  water.  Simmer  until  thick  and  pour  over  the 
eggs  in  the  dish. 


Flapjacks. 

One  cup  of  fine  white  meal ; one  cup  of  flour ; two  cups  of 
boiling  water  ; one  tablespoonful  of  sugar  ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt 
and  the  same  of  baking  powder ; two  eggs ; three  cups  of  milk. 

Put  meal  and  salt  into  a bowl,  and  scald  with  the  water ; when 
it  is  cold,  stir  in  the  milk ; sift  flour  and  baking  powder  together, 
and  beat  in  next,  then,  eggs  and  sugar  whipped  light  together ; 
beat  for  one  minute  hard  up  from  the  bottom,  and  bake  on  a hot 
griddle. 


296  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

LUNCHEON. 

Alock  Snipe. 

Thin  Bread  and  Butter.  Rice  Pilau. 

Cold  Meat.  Crackers.  Cheese.  Olives. 

Oranges  cut  up  with  Sugar. 

Cake. 


Mock  Snipe. 

Cut  very  thin  slices  of  fat  salt  pork  about  the  length  of  your 
middle  finger  and  twice  as  wide  ; drain  every  drop  of  the  liquor 
from  large  oysters ; bind  each  about  the  middle  with  a slice  of  pork, 
skewer  together  with  a wooden  toothpick,  or  stout  straw,  thrust 
through  both,  and  fry  in  butter  or  dripping  to  a nice  brown  ; drain 
off  the  fat,  and  serve,  without  withdrawing  the  toothpicks.  Lay 
within  an  edging  of  watercresses.  The  sharp  points  of  the  skewers 
give  the  dish  some  resemblance  to  broiled  snipe.  Eat  hot. 


Rice  Pilau. 

One  cup  of  weak  broth,  and  the  same  of  stewed  tomatoes, 
strained  through  a fine  sieve ; one  half-cnp  of  raw  rice  ; one  table- 
spoonful of  butter ; minced  onion,  pepper  and  salt. 

Simmer  broth,  tomatoes  and  onion  together  for  fifteen  minutes ; 
strain  out  the  onion,  season  well,  and  put  over  the  fire  with  the 
rice,  which  should  have  soaked  one  hour  in  cold  water ; cook  gently, 
until  the  rice  is  tender,  shaking  up  the  saucepan  now  and  then,  but 
never  stirring  it ; add  the  butter,  working  it  in  lightly  with  a fork, 
and  set  it  at  the  back  of  the  range  to  dry  off,  as  yon  would  boiled 
potatoes.  Serve  in  a heated,  deep  dish. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Oranges  cut  up  with  Sugar. 


297 


Peel,  without  tearing  the  fruit,  divide  deftly  into  eighths,  and  cut 
these  crosswise,  removing  the  seed  when  it  can  be  done  without 
mangling  the  flesh.  The  beauty  of  the  dish  depends  upon  care  in 
dividing,  and  seeding,  and  the  keenness  of  the  blade  used  for  cutting. 
Pile  in  a glass  dish,  and  sugar  each  portion  as  you  serve  it  out.  If 
the  oranges  are  left  long  in  sugar,  they  wither,  and  lose  their  fresh 
flavor.  Pass  cake  with  them. 

DINNER. 

Tomato  Bisque. 

Chicken  Fricassee,  cache.  Bermuda  Onions,  stuffed. 

Potato  Croquettes. 

Chocolate  Trifle.  Light  Cake. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Tomato  Bisque. 

One  quart  can  of  tomatoes ; one  quart  of  milk,  with  a tiny  bit 
of  soda  stirred  in ; one  even  tablespoonful  of  corn-starch  and  a 
heaping  tablespoonful  of  butter,  rubbed  together ; salt  and  pepper 
to  taste ; one  half  teaspoonful  of  sugar. 

Stew  the  tomatoes  for  half  an  hour  with  salt,  pepper  and  sugar, 
rub  through  a fine  colander  back  into  the  saucepan,  and  heat  to 
boiling.  Scald  the  milk  in  another  vessel,  add  corn-starch  and 
butter,  and  stir  until  well  thickened.  Mix  with  the  tomato,  bring 
to  a quick,  sharp  boil,  and  a delicious  soup  is  ready  for  eating. 

Chicken  Fricassee,  Cache. 

Cut  up  the  fowl  and  stew  tender  in  enough  cold  water  to  cover 
it.  Pour  off  the  liquor  to  cool,  that  you  may  skim  ofl*  the  fat.  Cut 


298 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


the  meat  from  the  bones  in  neat  pieces  with  a sharp  knife.  With 
these,  neatly  fill  a bake-dish,  cover  and  set  aside.  Put  two  table- 
spoonfuls of  butter  in  a frying  pan  and  cook  in  it,  when  hot,  half 
an  onion,  sliced,  until  it  is  of  a light  brown.  Strain  the  hot 
butter  into  a bowl,  add  two  tablespoonfuls  of  flour,  and,  when  you 
have  a thick  batter,  the  liquor  (strained  and  skimmed)  in  which  the 
chicken  was  stewed.  Season  well  and  pour  upon  the  chicken. 
There  should  be  enough  liquid  to  fill  the  dish.  Set  in  the  oven, 
covered,  while  you  mix  quickly  a pint  of  prepared  flour  into  a soft 
biscuit-paste,  with  cold  water  or  milk  and  shortening.  Roll  out 
into  a sheet  half  an  inch  thick,  cut  into  round  cakes,  and  lay  these, 
just  touching  one  another,  on  the  surface  of  the  chicken-gravy. 
Shut  up  in  the  oven,  and  bake  until  the  cakes  are  delicately 
browned  and  “ puffy.”  Serve  in  the  bake-dish. 


Bermuda  Onions,  Stuffed. 

Make  a round  hole  in  the  upper  end  of  each,  dig  out  at  least 
half  the  contents ; set  in  a dish  covered  with  warm,  slightly  salted 
water,  and  bring  to  a simmer.  Throw  away  the  water ; carefully 
fill  the  onions  with  minced  poultry  or  veal,  put  a bit  of  butter  in 
the  dish  to  prevent  burning,  scatter  fine  crumbs  thickly  over  the 
onions,  and  bake,  covered,  half  an  hour. 


Potato  Croquettes. 

Mash  mealy  potatoes  to  a soft  paste  with  milk,  and  a little 
butter;  work  in  a raw  egg,  well  beaten,  and  a teaspoonful  of 
])repared  flour.  Mold  into  rolls,  rounded  at  the  ends,  dip  in  beaten 
egg,  then  in  fine  cracker  crninbs,  and  fry  in  good  dripping  or  salted 
lard.  Croquettes  are  best  when  left  to  get  cold  and  firm  before  they 
are  cooked.  Drain  all  the  fat  from  them  before  dishing. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Chocolate  Trifle. 


299 


One  quart  of  milk ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  Baker’s  chocolate, 
that  flavored  with  vanilla,  if  you  can  get  it ; three-quarters  of  a cup 
of  sugar ; six  eggs ; one  pint  of  whipped  cream  ; a saltspoonful  of 
salt ; one  teaspoonful  of  extract  of  vanilla ; bit  of  soda. 

Heat  the  milk  in  a farina-kettle  with  the  soda  and  salt,  wet  up 
the  chocolate  with  a little  cold  milk,  and  stir  it  in,  keeping  the 
spoon  going  until  the  chocolate  is  dissolved.  Beat  eggs  and  sugar 
together  in  a bowl,  pour  the  hot  milk  and  chocolate  on  them,  mix 
thoroughly,  and  return  to  the  fire,  stirring  industriously.  When  it 
has  thickened  nicely,  pour  it  out,  flavor,  and  set  away  to  get  cold. 
Just  before  dinner,  turn  into  a glass  bowl,  and  heap  on  top  the 
whipped  cream,  slightly  sweetened.  Or,  if  you  have  custard  cups, 
nearly  fill  them  with  the  chocolate,  and  top  them  with  the  snowy 
cream.  This  is  a pretty  dessert.  Send  around  fancy  cakes,  or 
arrange  an  attractive  basket  of  alternate  slices  of  sponge  and  angel 
cake. 

/ 

Ko.  11 
BREAKFAST. 

Milk  Porridge. 

Brown  Stew  of  Liver.  Egg  Gems. 

Baked  Potatoes.  Bread  Toast. 

Coffee.  Tea.  Fruit. 


Milk  Porridge. 

One  pint  of  oatmeal ; one  pint,  each,  of  boiling  water  and  milk ; 
one  teaspoonful  of  salt. 


300 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Sift  tlie  meal  into  the  salted  hot  water,  stir  well,  and  leave  it  all 
night  on  the  cooking  stove.  In  the  morning,  surround  with  boiling 
water  and  cook  one  hour  without  stirring  ; add  the  hot  milk,  simmer 
ten  minutes,  and  pour  out. 

Brown  Stew  of  Diver. 

Lay  the  sliced  liver  for  half  an  hour  in  cold  salt-and-water ; 
wipe,  and  cut  it  into  inch-square  bits  ; fry  half  a sliced  onion  to  a 
nice  brown  in  dripping ; strain  out  the  onion,  add  a tablespoonful  of 
browned  flour  to  the  fat,  and  stir  to  a smooth  roux^  adding  a cupful 
of  boiling  water  as  you  go  on ; turn  all  into  a saucepan,  put  in  the 
liver  with  another  cup  of  hot  water,  cover,  and  stew  very  slowly  one 
hour,  or  until  tender ; season  with  pepper,  salt,  parsley,  a teaspoon- 
ful of  tomato  catsup,  and  serve  in  a deep  dish. 


Egg  Gems. 

Three  cups  of  prepared  flour ; three  cups  of  milk  ; three  eggs ; 
one  saltspoonful  of  salt. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  milk,  flour  and  salt ; beat  fast  upward 
for  one  minute  and  a half ; fill  hot,  greased  gem  pans  ; bake  in  a 
quick  oven.  Graham  gems  made  by  this  recipe,  substituting 
Graham  flour  for  white,  are  delicious. 


LUNCHEON. 

Broiled  Smoked  Salmon. 

Sweetbread  Salad.  Oatmeal  Scones. 

Bread.  Butter.  Pickles. 

Crackers  and  Cheese. 

Soft  Gingerbread. 


Chocolate. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Broiled  Smoked  Salmon. 


301 


One  pound  of  smoked  salmon  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; 
juice  of  a lemon  ; cayenne  pepper. 

Wash  and  soak  the  salmon  for  one  hour;  wipe,  and  with  a 
sharp  knife  cut  into  strips  three  inches  long  and  an  inch  wide  ; 
parboil  in  hot  water  to  which  has  been  added  a tablespoonful  of 
vinegar  and  four  or  five  whole  cloves.  When  it  has  simmered  for 
fifteen  minutes,  drain,  wipe  dry,  and  broil  on  a gridiron  to  a nice 
brown  ; lay  on  a hot  dish,  butter  well,  squeeze  the  lemon  over  the 
strips,  pepper,  and  serve. 

Sweetbread  Salad. 

Parboil  three  sweetbreads  for  ten  minutes  in  fresh  hot  water ; 
drain,  and  throw  them  into  ice-water  to  blanch  them ; when  quite 
cold,  cook  fifteen  minutes  in  salted  boiling  water,  take  out,  wipe, 
and  set  where  they  will  cool  suddenly.  This  will  make  them  firm 
and  crisp.  Cut  into  round  slices.  Line  a salad  bowl  with  lettuce, 
lay  the  sliced  sweetbreads  on  the  leaves,  and  pour  a mayonnaise 
dressing  over  them. 


Oatmeal  Scones. 

Three  cups  of  oatmeal ; one  pint  of  white  flour,  prepared ; one 
pint  of  boiling  milk ; two  tablespronfuls  of  butter ; half  a tea- 
spoonful  of  salt. 

Sift  oatmeal,  flour  and  salt  twice  together  into  a bowl,  melt  the 
butter  in  the  milk,  make  a hole  in  the  middle  of  the  meal,  &c.,  and 
pour  this  in.  Stir  into  a soft  dough  as  quickly  as  possible,  roll  into 
a sheet  less  than  an  eighth  of  an  inch  thick,  cut  into  round  cakes, 
and  bake  on  a hot  griddle.  Butter  while  hot  and  serve.  They  are 
good  cold,  also. 


302 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Soft  Gingerbread. 


Two  heaping  cups  of  flour ; a scant  half-cup  of  butter ; half-a- 
cup  of  milk  ; one  cup  of  molasses,  and  two  tablespooiifiils  of  sugar  ; 
two  eggs;  one  dessertspooiiful  of  ground  ginger;  a half-teaspoon ful 
of  cinnamon ; a quarter-teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  with  the  flour. 

Rub  sugar,  molasses  and  butter  to  a yellow  cream,  add  the 
spices,  the  beaten  yolks,  the  milk,  whites  and  flour.  Bake  in  two 
loaves  in  a moderate  oven. 


DINNER 

Cream  Soup.  Glazed  Cod.  Larded  Chicken. 

Cauliflower  with  Cream  Sauce. 

Browned  Potatoes.  Stewed  Carrots.  Fatima’s  Puddings. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 


Cream  Soup. 

One  quart  of  veal,  or  chicken,  or  mutton  stock  ; half  cup  of  raw 
rice ; yolks  of  three  eggs ; one  cupful  of  hot  milk  ; one  tablespoou- 
ful  of  corn-starch  wet  up  with  cold  milk  ; salt,  pepper  and  minced 
parsley. 

Simmer  rice  and  stock  together  until  the  grains  are  soft ; rub 
through  a colander  or  sieve,  and  put  back  into  the  soup  pot ; sea- 
son, stir  in  the  corn-starch,  and  simmer  gently  while  you  beat  the 
yolks  and  pour  over  them  the  hot  milk ; add  to  the  soup,  cook  one 
minute,  but  do  not  let  it  boil ; serve  in  a hot  tureen. 


Glazed  Cod. 

Cut  a steak  from  the  most  solid  part  of  the  fish,  lay  in  salt  and 
water  for  two  hours,  wipe  dry,  wash  with  vinegar  and  put  into  a 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


303 


dripping-pan,  with  half  a cup  of  boiling  water ; turn  another  pan 
over  it,  and  steam  for  half  .an  hour ; remove  the  upper  pan,  rub  with 
butter,  and  season  with  salt  and  pepper ; baste  twice  in  the  next  ten 
minutes  with  the  butter  and  water  in  the  pan  ; drain  this  off  into  a 
sauce-pan ; wash  the  fish  over  with  two  beaten  eggs,  and  shut  up 
in  the  oven  for  a minute  to  glaze  ; thicken  the  gravy  with  brown 
flour;  add  the  juice  of  a lemon  and  half  a glass  of  wine;  boil  up, 
pour  a few  spoonfuls  about  the  cod  when  dished,  the  rest  into  a 
boat. 


Lardkd  Chickens. 

Draw,  wash  thoroughly  and  wipe  the  chickens ; truss  as  for 
roasting ; lard  the  breasts  with  strips  of  fat  salt  pork  in  regular 
lines  an  inch  apart,  each  lardoon  being  a half  inch  from  the  next  in 
its  row;  lay  the  chickens,  breast  uppermost,  in  a dripping-pan, 
with  a half  cup  of  boiling  water,  and  roast,  basting  often ; allow 
about  twelve  minutes  to  the  pound ; keep  the  chickens  warm  while 
you  mince  the  boiled  giblets,  and  stir  them  into  the  gravy  with  a 
thickening  of  browned  flour. 


Cauliflower  with  Cheese  Sauce. 

Boil  in  the  usual  way  when  done,  put  into  a deep  dish,  and  pour 
over  it  a sauce  made  by  heating  a cup  of  milk,  stirring  into  it  a table- 
spoonful of  butter,  cut  up  in  one  of  prepared  flour,  and,  when  this 
thickens,  adding  three  great  spoonfuls  of  dry,  grated  cheese.  Sea- 
son with  salt,  and  a dash  of  cayenne. 


Fatima’s  Pudding. 

One  half  pound  of  “ lady  fingers,”  stale  enough  to  crumble  easily ; 
one  quart  of  hot  milk ; six  eggs  ; one  cupful  of  sugar ; grated  peel 


304 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


of  an  orange,  and  half  the  grated  peel  of  a lemon  ; juice  of  two  oranges; 
soak  the  crumbs  in  the  hot  milk  ; beat  the  eggs  light,  add  the 
sugar  and  grated  peel ; when  light,  the  milk  and  crumbs.  Before 
the  juice  goes  in,  have  a row  of  stone  custard  cups  (buttered)  ready 
in  a pan  of  boiling  water  at  the  oven-door;  add  the  orange  juice 
with  a few  strokes  of  the  “ beater ;”  pour  into  the  cups,  and  shut  up 
at  once  in  the  oven  ; bake  half  an  hour,  and  turn  out  on  a hot  dish  ; 
eat  with  the  following  sauce  : two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  stirred 
into  one  of  arrowroot  or  corn-starch  ; a cup  of  powdered  sugar  ; two 
eggs  ; a cupful  of  boiling  water  ; juice  and  a teaspoonful  of  grated 
orange  peel. 

Heat  the  water  in  a sauce-pan,  add  sugar,  butter  and  corn-starch, 
and  when  thick,  the  orange  juice  and  peel;  finally,  the  beaten 

eggs  ; cook  two  minutes. 

» 


No.  12. 


BREAKFAST. 

Oatmeal  Porridge.  Baked  Fish  Cake. 

Scrambled  Eggs.  Corn  Cakes. 

Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Baked  Fish  Cake. 

Two  pounds  of  cold,  boiled  fresh  cod  or  halibut ; a cup  of 
mashed  potatoes  ; half  a cup  of  bread-crumbs  ; a cupful  of  drawn 
butter,  in  which  has  been  stirred  a teaspoonful  of  anchovy  paste ; a 
tablespoon  fill  of  finely  cut  parsley,  and  half  as  much  minced  onion  ; 
a raw  egg,  butter,  salt  and  pepper.  Mix  tlie  fish,  “ picked  ” evenly, 
with  herbs,  potato  and  drawn  butter;  season;  put  into  a buttered 
bake-dish  and  set  in  the  oven,  covered,  fifteen  minutes ; sift  the 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


305 


crumbs  on  top ; stick  bits  of  butter  in  them,  and  brown  quickly. 
Wash  over  with  beaten  egg,  shut  the  oven  for  a minute,  and  serve 
the  cake  in  the  bake-dish. 


Scrambled  Eggs. 

Put  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  a gill  of  milk,  a saltspoonful  of 
salt,  half  as  much  pepper,  and  a tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley  in 
a frying-pan.  When  the  mixture  boils,  break  and  stir  into  it  eight 
or  ten  eggs.  Beat  and  stir  until  they  are  well  mixed,  and  cease  to 
run  over  the  pan.  Line  a dish  with  crustless  toast  dipped  in  hot 
milk,  salted,  peppered  and  buttered,  and  pour  the  eggs  on  this  bed. 


Corn  Cakes. 

Three  even  cupfuls  of  white  Indian  meal ; two  cups  of  sour  or 
buttermilk  ; one  heaping  tablespoonful  of  lard  ; one  tablespoonful 
of  sugar ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  flour ; one  teaspoonful  of  soda ; 
three  eggs  well  beaten ; a cup  of  boiling  water. 

Sift  meal,  flour,  salt  and  soda  together  three  times  into  a bowl ; 
mix  sugar  and  lard  in  the  boiling  water,  add  the  milk  ; make  a hole 
in  the  meal  and  flour,  and  put  this  in,  stirring  down  quickly.  Now, 
add  the  beaten  eggs,  and  whip  upward  hard,  until  you  have  a 
smooth,  light  batter.  Bake  in  greased  pate  pans  at  once.  Eat  hot. 


LUNCHEON. 

Steamed  Clams.  String  Bean  Salad. 

Cold  Meat  garnished  with  Parsley. 

Bread,  Butter,  Crackers.  Fried  Bananas. 

Cocatina  and  Macaroons. 


3o6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Steamed  ClaMvS. 

Put  the  clams,  without  removing  tlic  shells,  in  your  steamer, 
laying  them  flat,  that  the  juice  may  not  escape;  set  the  steamer 
over  a pot  of  boiling  water  shut  up  tightly,  and  keep  this  at  a hard 
boil,  but  not  touching  the  clams,  half  an  hour.  Peep  in  then  to  see 
if  the  shells  have  opened.  If  not,  close  down  the  top  for  ten  min- 
utes more ; take  out  the  clams,  pry  off  the  upper  shells,  and  arrange 
the  lower  (holding  the  clams)  on  a flat  dish.  Lay  on  each,  a sauce 
made  by  whipping  a tablespoonful  or  more  of  butter  to  a cream 
with  the  juice  of  a lemon,  a little  chopped  parsley,  salt,  and  a touch 
of  cayenne.  Eat  hot,  with  warmed  crackers. 


String  Bean  Salad. 

Take  a cup  of  cold,  boiled  string  beans,  and  if  they  have  not 
been  cut  into  inch-lengths  before  they  were  cooked,  do  it  now ; heap 
on  a flat  dish  ; encircle  with  a row  of  cold  boiled  beet  slices ; on 
each  one  of  these  lay  a slice  of  hard-boiled  egg  ; garnish  with  crisp 
lettuce  leaves  as  a frill  and  send  around  mayonnaise  dressing  with 
it.  This  will  make  a pretty  and  palatable  dish. 


Fried  Bananas. 

Pare  a dozen  bananas  and  cut  each  lengthwise  into  three  slices ; 
have  ready  a batter  made  by  beating  two  eggs  light  with  half  a 
cupful  of  milk  and  four  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour,  slightly 
salted  ; dip  the  banana  slices  into  this  and  fry  in  boiling  lard  to  a 
golden  brown’.  Drain  off  the  grease  and  serve  on  a hot  dish  lined 
with  white  paper. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

DINNER. 


307 


GHicken  Bisque.  Brisket  of  Beef  a la  mode. 

Stewed  Corn.  Lima  Beans. 

Browned  Sweet  Potatoes.  Batter  Pudding. 

Cream  Sauce. 


Chicken  Bisque. 

An  old  fowl ; a cupful  of  cracker  crumbs  ; a quarter  pound  of 
almonds,  blanched  and  dried  to  crispness  ; a large  tablespoonful  of 
minced  onion,  and  the  same  of  parsley  ; a cup  of  Hot  milk  ; four 
quarts  of  cold  water  ; pepper  and  salt ; two  raw  eggs,  beaten  light. 

Clean  and  boil  the  fowl  slowly  in  the  water,  until  the  flesh  slips 
from  the  bones  ; salt  and  pepper  it,  and  set  away  in  the  liquor  until 
next  day.  Skim  it,  then,  and  taking  out  the  fowl,  bone  and  mince 
the  flesh  fine.  Shred  the  almonds  into  minute  shavings,  mix  with 
the  chopped  meat,  onions  and  parsley,  and  put  all  into  the  broth 
when  you  have  strained  it  into  a pot.  Simmer  gently  half  an  hour, 
taking  care  it  does  not  scorch ; add  the  cracker  crumbs,  then,  the 
beaten  eggs  when  you  have  stirred  them  into  the  hot  milk.  Take 
from  the  fire,  and  set  in  boiling  water  five  minutes,  covered,  before 
turning  into  the  tureen. 


Brisket  of  Beef  a la  mode. 

Take  out  the  bones  with  a sharp  knife,  and  bind  the  beef  into 
shape  with  broad  tapes.  Make  incisions  quite  through  the  meat 
perpendicularly,  and  thrust  into  them  lardoons  of  fat  salt  pork. 
The  holes  should  be  less  than  an  inch  apart.  Lay  in  a broad  pot, 
put  in  two  cupfuls  of  warm — not  hot — water,  fit  on  a tight  lid,  and 
cook  slowly  twenty  minutes  to  the  pound.  Take  up  the  meat,  and 


3o8 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


lay  in  tlie  dripping  pan.  Cover  the  top  an  ineh  thick  with  a force- 
meat of  crumbs,  fat  salt  pork,  a dozen  finely-minced  oysters,  a tea- 
spoonful of  chopped  onion,  and  pepper  to  taste  ; set  in  the  oven  long 
enough  to  brown  nicely.  Meanwhile,  cool  and  skim  and  strain  the 
gravy  ; return  to  the  fire  in  a saucepan,  thicken  with  browned  flour ; 
add  a glass  of  wine,  and  a teaspoonful  of  French  mustard,  boil  up 
once  and  serve  in  a boat. 


Stewed  Corn. 

Open  and  turn  out  a can  of  corn  three  hours  before  using,  drain 
off  the  liquor  and  set  the  corn  in  a cold  place.  Half  an  hour  before 
dinner,  put  a cup  of  boiling  water  in  one  of  milk  in  a saucepan ; 
drop  in  a bit  of  soda ; add  the  corn  and  cook  gently  half  an  hour. 
Salt  and  pepper  to  taste,  stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  rolled  in 
one  of  flour,  boil  up  once  and  serve. 


Lima  Beans. 

Canned  Lima  Beans  are  heated  in  the  same  way  as  com,  only 
leaving  out  the  milk  and  flour.  They  should  be  drained  also  before 
the  butter  is  stirred  in. 


Browned  Sweet  Potatoes. 

They  are  getting  soft  and  watery  at  this  season.  Boil  them  fifteen 
minutes,  peel,  and  lay  in  the  oven  to  bake,  basting  them  with  but- 
ter until  they  are  of  a fine  brown. 


Batter  Pudding. 

Two  cups  of  Hccker’s  prepared  flour  ; three  cups  of  milk ; foul 
eggs  ; a quarterspoonful  of  salt ; one  tablespoonful  each  of  lard  and 


SPRING  BILLS  OP  FARE. 


309 


butter.  Chop  the  shortening  into  the  flour  with  the  salt  until 
thoroughly  mixed.  Beat  the  eggs  very  light,  add  the  milk  to  them, 
beat  in  the  flour  by  the  handful ; pour  into  a cake-mold  with  a 
funnel  in  the  middle  and  bake  in  a quick  oven. 


Cream  Sauce. 

One  cup  of  sugar  ; one  cup  of  milk  ; whites  of  two  eggs,  beaten 
to  a meringue  ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  two  teaspoon- 
fuls of  corn-starch ; vanilla  seasoning.  Heat  the  milk  to  boiling, 
stir  in  sugar  and  floured  butter.  Boil  up  sharply,  withdraw  from 
the  fire  and  beat  in  meringue  and  flavoring. 


No.  13. 

BREAKFAST. 

Mush  and  Milk.  Oyster  Omelette. 

Waffles.  Stewed  Potatoes. 

Fruit.  Coffee.  Tea. 


Mush  and  Milk. 

One  cup  of  Indian  meal,  scalded  with  two  cups  of  boiling  water ; 
one  quart  and  a pint  of  boiling  water ; two  teaspoonfuls  of  salt ; 
stir  the  scalded  meal  into  the  boiling  salted  water,  and  cook  in  a 
farina  kettle  for  at  least  an  hour.  You  cannot  cook  much  too  long  ; 
now  and  then  beat  up  from  the  bottom  and  work  out  the  clots.  Serve 
in  an  open  dish.  Eat  with  milk  and  cream. 


Oyster  Omelette. 

Six  eggs,  whites  and  yolks  beaten  separately ; one  tablespoonful 
of  cream ; a half  teaspoonful  of  com-starch  wet  with  the  cream ; a salt 


310  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

spoonful  of  salt  and  a “ dust  ” of  pepper ; a dozen  fine  oysters, 
broiled. 

Beat  yolks  well,  adding  the  cream  and  corn-starch,  stir  in  the 
stiffened  whites  lightly,  have  ready  a tablespoonful  of  butter  in  a 
frying  pan  hissing  hot,  but  not  browned.  Pour  in  the  omelette,  and 
as  soon  as  it  sets  at  the  edges,  loosen  with  a knife,  and  shake  gently 
with  a uniform  motion  from  side  to  side,  until  the  center  is  almost 
“ set.”  The  oysters  should  have  been  broiled  before  you  began  the 
omelette.  To  do  this,  roll  them  in  fine  cracker  dust,  salted  and 
peppered,  broil  quickly  over  a clear  fire,  transfer  to  a hot  dish,  put  a 
bit  of  butter  on  each,  cover  and  keep  hot  while  the  omelette  is  cook- 
ing. When  this  is  done,  line  one  half  of  it,  as  it  lies  in  the  pan, 
with  the  oysters,  fold  the  other  over  it  dexterously  and  reverse  the 
frying-pan  quickly  upon  the  heated  dish  in  which  it  is  to  be  served. 


Waffles. 

Three  scant  cups  of  milk ; two  eggs ; three  cups  of  prepared 
flour ; one  heaping  tablespoonful  of  butter,  just  melted  ; half  a tea- 
spoonful  of  salt ; one  tablespoonful  of  sugar. 

Beat  the  eggs  very  light,  cream  butter  and  sugar,  and  put  them 
in.  Add  the  milk,  then  salted  flour.  Mix  thoroughly,  and  bake  in 
well  greased  waffle-irons.  Try  a spoonful  of  batter  first  to  test  it 
and  them. 


Stewed  Potatoes. 

Peel,  and  cut  in  square  bits,  dropping  these  in  cold  water  as  you 
go  on.  Cook  tender  in  boiling,  salted  water.  Turn  off  half  of  this 
when  they  are  nearly  done,  and  replace  with  a like  quantity  of  hot 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


milk  in  which  has  been  dissolved  a tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up 
in  flour.  Simmer  three  or  four  minutes,  pepper,  salt,  and  stir  in 
a teaspoonful  of  finely  cut  parsley.  Boil  up  and  dish. 


LUNCHEON. 

Rechauffe  of  Fish.  Tomato  Toast. 

Bread  and  Butter.  Crackers  and  Cheese.  Rusk. 

Jam  or  Marmalade. 


Rechauffe  of  Fish. 

Pick  cold  boiled  cod  or  halibut  into  even  small  flakes  ; put  into  a ‘ 
frying-pan  a cup  of  boiling  water  (for  a heaping  cupful  of  fish), 
season  well  with  pepper  and  salt,  stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  butter 
cut  up  in  a great  spoonful  of  flour.  As  it  simmers,  add  the  fish, 
toss  and  turn  with  a fork,  and  when  smoking  hot,  put  in  three  table- 
spoonfuls  of  cream.  It  should  be  just  stiff  enough  to  be  mounded 
in  the  middle  of  a platter.  Have  ready  the  beaten  whites  of  two 
eggs ; spread  quickly  on  the  mound  and  set  the  dish  in  a hot  oven 
long  enough  to  cook  the  meringue.  Garnish  with  lemons,  cut 
lengthwise  into  eighths. 

Tomato  Toast. 

Stew  a quart  of  ripe  tomatoes  ten  minutes,  and  run  through  a 
colander.  Season  with  pepper,  salt,  a little  sugar,  and  two  teaspoon- 
fuls of  butter,  and  simmer  to  a smooth  soft  pulp.  Another  ten 
minutes  is  enough.  In  another  vessel  scald  half  a cup  of  hot  milk 
with  a bit  of  soda  half  the  size  of  a pea  dissolved  in  it,  stir  in  a tea- 
spoonful of  butter,  add  to  the  tomatoes,  and  pour  at  once  over  slices 
of  crustless  toast  buttered  well,  and  laid  on  a heated  platter.  Let 


312 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


it  stand  three  minutes  before  serving.  It  will  be  a pleasing  com- 
panion dish  to  the  fish. 


Crackers  and  Cheese. 

Make  an  intermediate  course  of  these,  heating  the  crackers 
slightly,  and  serving  in  a basket  lined  with  a napkin.  With  olives, 
they  make  an  agreeable  e^itr'acte^  and  add  elegance  to  a plain 
luncheon. 


Rusk. 

Four  cups  of  milk ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  yeast ; about  three 
cups  of  flour  ; one  cup  of  butter ; two  cups  of  sugar  ; three  eggs  ; 
a very  little  cinnamon. 

Make  flour,  milk  and  yeast  into  a sponge,  and  let  it  rise  over 
night.  In  the  morning,  work  in  more  flour  (if  needed  to  make  a 
soft  dough) , add  the  eggs,  spice  and  butter  and  sugar  ; (creamed) 
knead  for  five  minutes,  and  let  it  rise  for  four  hours  longer.  Break 
off  bits,  and  round,  with  floured  hand,  into  small  biscuits ; lay 
closely  together  in  a baking  pan  and  set  for  a third  rising  of  half  an 
hour,  or  until  they  are  light.  Bake  in  a moderate  oven,  covering 
with  paper  should  they  brown  too  fast.  When  quite  done,  wash  the 
tops  lightly  with  butter  and  sugar  to  glaze  them.  Serve  fresh,  but 
not  hot,  and  pass  jam  or  marmalade,  and  if  you  can  get  it,  iced  milk 
with  them. 


PINNER. 

Black  Bean  Soup.  Fried  Shad  with  Sauce  Piquant©. 

Beefsteak  and  Onions.  Beets. 

Spinach  on  Toast.  Rice  Cream.  Brandied  Peaches. 

Light  Cakes.  Fruit.  Coffee. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Black  Bean  Soup. 


313 


Four  cups  of  black,  or  purple,  or  “ mock-turtle  soup  ” beans  ; 
two  quarts  of  stock,  in  which  corned  ham,  or  fat  salt  pork,  or  corned 
beef  has  been  cooked  ; one  onion,  chopped  ; four  tablespoonfuls  of 
chopped  celery;  one  great  spoonful  of  butter  rubbed  in  one  of  flour ; 
pepper ; one  teaspoonful  of  sugar. 

Soak  the  beans  twelve  hours.  Skim  and  strain  the  stock,  and 
put  it  cold  at  the  back  of  the  range,  with  the  beans,  onion  and 
celery.  Give  it  plenty  of  time  to  cook,  and  for  two  hours,  do  not 
let  it  boil.  After  that,  take  care  it  does  not  burn.  When  the  beans 
are  broken  to  pieces,  turn  the  contents  of  the  pot  into  a colander, 
set  over  a kettle  and  rub  the  beans  through  into  the  liquor  below. 
Return  to  the  fire,  stir  in  the  pepper,  sugar  and  floured  butter,  and 
simmer  fifteen  minutes.  Have  ready  dice  of  bread,  fried  crisp, 
and  slices  of  peeled  lemon  to  lay  on  the  surface  of  the  soup  in  the 
tureen.  A little  tomato  j nice  is  an  improvement. 


Fried  Shad  with  Sauce  Piquante.  {A  handsome  dish,) 

Split  the  fish  as  for  broiling,  and,  with  a sharp  knife,  divide  it 
into  pieces  nearly  as  wide  as  your  hand.  Roll  these  in  beaten  yolk 
of  egg,  when  you  have  salted  and  peppered  each, — then,  in  finely- 
powdered  cracker,  also  salted  and  peppered, — and  set  them  on  the 
ice  for  three  or  four  hours.  Fry  them  in  deep  fat  to  a yellow-brown, 
drain  off  every  drop  of  grease,  and  lay  lengthwise  on  a hot  fish-dish. 

To  make  the  sauce,  beat  up  three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  to  a 
cream,  with  three  tablespoonfuls  of  lemon  juice  (strained),  mix  in, 
at  the  last,  the  same  quantity  of  finely-minced  parsley,  beating  all 
together  until  the  sauce  is  green.  Have  ready  eight  half  lemons, 


3^4 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


emptied  of  pulp  and  juice  ; fill  lightly  with  the  sauce  and  lay  about 
the  fish  when  dished,  serving  one  to  each  person. 

You  can  garnish  smelts  and  halibut  in  the  same  way. 


Beefsteak  and  Onions. 

Broil  the  steak  quickly,  turning  often.  Give  your  whole  atten- 
tion to  a steak  while  cooking  it.  Lay  on  a hot  dish,  pepper  and  salt, 
butter  lightly,  and  set,  covered,  in  the  plate-warmer.  Fry  a sliced 
onion  three  minutes  in  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  not  letting  it 
scorch.  Strain  the  butter  into  a hot  bowl,  stir  in  the  juice  of  half 
a lemon,  and  a saltpoonful  of  made  mustard,  pour  over  the  steak, 
cover  again,  and  keep  hot  for  five  minutes  before  serving. 


Beets. 

Boil  whole,  without  breaking  the  skin.  Old  beets  need  at  least 
three  hours  of  cooking  to  be  eatable.  Scrape,  and  slice  into  a deep 
dish ; pour  over  them  three  tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar  scalded  with 
two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter. 


Spinach  on  Toast. 

Wash  and  pick  the  leaves  from  the  stalks ; boil  for  twenty  min- 
utes in  hot,  salted  water,  drain  dry,  rub  through  a colander  into  a 
saucepan  ; heat,  and  add  a liberal  tablespoonful  of  butter,  a tea- 
spoon fill  of  sugar,  pepper  and  salt  to  taste,  and  a pinch  of  nutmeg. 
Beat  until  it  bubbles  all  over,  put  in  two  tablespoonfuls  of  cream, 
heat  again,  and  heap  on  squares  or  rounds  of  buttered  toast,  a slice 
of  boiled  egg  on  each  hillock. 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Rick  Cream. 


315 


One  cup  of  rice  boiled  soft,  but  not  to  a paste ; two  cups  of 
milk ; four  eggs ; a cup  of  sugar ; vanilla  extract ; a cup  of 
whipped  cream. 

Make  the  eggs,  milk  and  sugar  into  a custard,  season  with 
vanilla.  Scald  the  milk  first,  pour  this  upon  the  beaten  eggs  and 
sugar,  and  cook  until  it  thickens  well.  While  still  hot,  beat  in  the 
rice,  season  with  vanilla,  and  let  it  get  cold  before  you  beat 
in  the  whipped  cream.  Set  it  to  form  in  a wet  mold  on  ice.  When 
you  are  ready  for  it,  turn  out  on  a glass  dish.  Pass  brandied  peaches 
and  light  cake  with  it. 


Ko  14.. 

BREAKFAST. 

Oatmeal  Porridge  (cold).  Liver  and  Bacon. 

Stewed  Potatoes.  . Cornmeal  Muffins. 

Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Oatmeal  Porridge  (Cold). 

Soak  a cupful  of  oatmeal  five  or  six  hours  in  cold  water.  Drain, 
and  put  it  over  the  fire  with  a quart  of  warm  water  salted 
slightly ; cook,  stirring  often,  and  adding  boiling  water  if  it  stiffens 
unduly,  for  at  least  an  hour.  Turn  out  into  small  cups  or  tumblers, 
each  holding  a “ help  ” for  a single  person.  Next  morning,  empty 
these  carefully  upon  a flat  dish;  serve  in  saucers  and  eat  with  sugar 
and  cream. 


3i6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Liver  and  Bacon. 

Slice  tlie  liver,  and  lay  it  in  cold  salt-and-water  for  half  an  hour, 
while  you  fry  slices  of  breakfast-bacon  in  a clean  frying-pan  until 
they  are  clear  and  somewhat  crisp.  Take  those  out  and  keep  hot 
over  boiling  water.  Wipe  the  liver  dry,  pepper  and  salt  each  piece, 
and  roll  in  flour,  then  fry  to  a fine  brown  in  the  fat  left  by  the 
bacon.  Shake  off  the  grease  when  all  are  done,  lay  in  neat  order 
on  a hot  jDlatter  and  dispose  the  bacon,  garnish-wise,  about  it.  Some 
like  the  flavor  imparted  by  frying  a little  sliced  onion  in  the  fat 
with  the  liver. 


CoRNMEAL  Muffins. 

Two  cups  of  cornmeal ; one  eup  of  flour ; two  eggs  ; two  cups 
^f  milk,  and  three  of  boiling  water ; half  a yeast  cake,  or  three 
tablespoonfuls  of  yeast ; a tablespoonful  of  melted  lard  ; a heaping 
teaspoonful  of  salt ; a tablespoonful  of  sugar.  Scald  the  meal  with 
the  boiling  water,  and  let  it  cool,  before  mixing  in  the  melted  lard, 
milk,  beaten  eggs,  sugar,  yeast  and  flour.  Beat  up  hard,  and  set 
it  to  rise  over  night.  In  the  morning,  half-fill  muffin-tins  with  the 
batter,  let  them  stand  in  a warm  place  for  fifteen  minutes,  and  bake 
in  a steady  oven. 


LUNCHEON. 

Baked  Omelette  with  Herbs. 

Cabbage  Salad,  with  Boiled  Dressing. 

Brcjad.  Butter.  Cheese.  Olives. 


Farina  Blanc-Mange. 


SPRING  BILLS  OP  FARE. 


317 


Baked  Omelette,  with  Herbs. 

Beat  tlie  yolks  of  six  eggs  liglit,  stir  in  with  them  three  table- 
spoonfuls  of  milk,  in  which  has  been  rubbed  smooth  a qnarter-tea- 
spoonful  of  arrowroot.  Have  an  assistant  prepare,  meanwhile,  a 
pudding  or  pie-dish  by  melting  in  it  a tablespoonful  of  butter  beaten 
to  a cream,  with  a tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley,  tender  celery- 
tops  and  a slice  of  onion.  All  must  be  finely  chopped.  Pepper  and 
salt  them  lightly.  Froth  your  whites,  set  your  bake-dish  in  the 
oven  until  the  butter  hisses  ; mix  yolks  and  whites  with  a swift 
whirl  of  the  “ Dover pour  the  omelette  into  the  dish,  and  shut  up 
promptly  in  a brisk  oven.  As  soon  as  it  is  high,  and  the  middle 
set,”  pass  a knife  around  the  edge,  and  turn  out  on  a hot-water 
dish.  Serve  and  eat  at  once. 

Cabbage  Salad,  with  Boiled  Dressing. 

Shred  the  heart  of  a white  cabbage  fine  with  a sharp  knife — -a 
chopper  bruises  it.  Heat  in  a saucepan  a cup  of  vinegar,  a table- 
spoonful  of  butter,  one  of  sugar,  half  a teaspoonful  of  made  must-> 
ard,  a saltspoonful  of  salt  and  the  same  of  pepper.  In  a second 
vessel,  heat  two-thirds  of  a cupful  of  milk  ; stir  into  it  two  beaten 
eggs,  and  cook  until  they  begin  to  thicken.  When  the  vinegar 
bolis,  pour  it  upon  the  shred  cabbage  ; put  all  back  into  the  sauce- 
pan, stir  one  minute  with  a silver  or  wooden  fork,  add  the  boiled 
milk  and  eggs,  toss  and  stir  well,  turn  into  a covered  bowl,  and  set 
where  it  will  cool  suddenly.  Serve  in  a glass  dish. 


Farina  Blanc  Mange. 

One  quart  of  milk ; two  eggs  ; half  a cupful  of  sugar. 

Four  tablespoonfuls  of  farina  soaked  for  two  hours  in  enough 
cold  water  to  cover  it.  Half  a saltspoonful  of  salt.  Two  teaspoon- 
fuls of  vanilla  essence  or  rose  water. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


31S 

Heat  the  milk,  salt  and  sugar  it,  and  add  the  soaked  farina. 
Stir  and  cook  for  half  an  hour,  pour  it  upon  the  beaten  eggs,  beat 
all  well,  return  to  the  farina  kettle  and  cook  five  minutes,  stirring 
faithfully  to  prevent  lumping.  Take  from  the  fire,  add  the  flavoring 
and  set  to  form  in  a mold  wet  with  cold  water.  Eat  with  cream  and 
sugar,  or  custard. 

DINNER. 

Canned  Pea  Soup.  Stuffed  Halibut. 

Curried  Chicken.  Rice.  Bananas.  Kidney  Beans. 

Cocoanut  Custard  and  Sponge  Cake. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 


Canned  Pea  Soup  {Without  Meat). 

Open  a can  of  American  peas,  drain  and  lay  them  in  cold,  salt 
water  for  half  an  hour.  Boil  them  soft  in  three  pints  of  hot  salted 
water,  with  a slice  of  onion  and  a stalk  of  celery.  A sprig  of 
green  mint  improves  the  flavor.  When  broken  to  pieces,  rub  them, 
with  the  water  in  which  they  were  cooked,  through  a colander ; put 
over  the  Are  and  bring  to  a boil.  Add  two  heaping  tablespoonfuls 
of  butter  rolled  in  three  of  flour,  half  a cupful  of  hot  milk,  a small 
teaspoonful  of  sugar ; salt  and  pepper  to  your  taste  (which  may 
not  be  mine  or  your  neighbor’s) . Simmer  and  stir  for  five  minutes, 
and  turn  into  a tureen  in  which  is  a handful  of  fried  bread-dice. 


Stuffed  Halibut. 

Buy  a thick  piece  of  halibut,  weighing  five  or  six  pounds,  and 
let  it  lie  in  sal t-aiid- water  for  two  hours.  Wipe  it,  pass  a sharp 
knife  down  to  the  bone  in  several  places,  and  thrust  into  the  cuts  a 


SPRING  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


3^9 


forcemeat  of  crumbs,  pork  minced  fine,  pepper  and  salt.  Lay  in  a 
dripping  pan  and  cook  in  a good  oven,  basting  for  the  first  half-hour 
with  butter-and-water,  afterward  with  its  own  gravy.  Five  pounds 
should  be  baked  in  about  an  hour.  Take  up  the  fish,  and  keep  hot. 
Add  to  the  strained  gravy  from  the  dripping  pan,  the  juice  of  a 
lemon,  a teaspoonful  of  anchovy  paste,  a tablespoonful  of  butter 
rubbed  into  two  of  browned  flour  (more  boiling  water  if  needed) — 
boil  up  once  and  pour  a little  over  the  fish,  the  rest  into  a sauce- 
boat. 


Curried  Chicken. 

Clean  and  joint  as  for  fricassee,  cover  with  cold,  weak  broth,  and 
stew  slowly  until  tender.  If  you  have  no  broth,  chop  a quarter 
pound  of  fat  salt  pork  fine  and  cook  with  a little  onion  in  three  cups 
of  water,  until  you  have  a pint  of  liquid.  Strain  and  cool,  before 
pouring  over  the  jointed  fowl.  Ten  minutes  before  taking  it  up, 
stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  good  curry-powder,  wet  in  cold  water,  and 
simmer  gently.  Lay  the  chicken  on  a hot  dish  and  pour  the  gravy 
upon  it. 

Rice. 

Cook  a cupful  of  raw  rice  in  a generous  quart  of  boiling  water, 
without  stirring,  until  tender,  shaking  up  the  saucepan  vigorously 
several  times.  Drain  off  the  water,  salt  the  rice,  and  let  it  dry 
at  the  back  of  the  range  before  dishing  it.  Give  a portion  of  rice 
with  each  “ help  of  chicken,  pouring  the  curry  gravy  on  it. 


Bananas. 

The  East  Indian  fashion  of  passing  cool  bananas  with  curried 
meat  is  pleasant,  if  it  seems  odd  to  us.  They  are  a grateful  adjunct, 
especially  to  palates  unused  to  the  pungent  condiment. 


320 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Kidney  Beans. 

Soak  a pint  of  beans  over  night  in  cold  water.  In  the  morning 
exchange  this  for  tepid,  and,  two  hours  and  a-half  before  dinner- 
time, put  them  over  the  fire  in  plenty  of  cold  water  and  cook  slowly 
until  the  skins  begin  to  break.  Turn  off  all  the  water,  put  a clean 
cloth  on  the  beans  left  in  the  saucepan,  and  set  at  the  side  of  the 
range  to  keep  hot  until  you  are  ready  to  serve  them.  Put  into  a 
deep  dish,  pepper  and  salt,  stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  and 
send  to  table. 


CocoANUT  Custard. 

Heat  a quart  of  milk  in  a farina  kettle.  Beat  the  yolks  of  five 
eggs  and  the  whites  of  two,  light ; add  five  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar, 
and  pour  upon  these  scalding  milk,  stirring  as  you  do  so.  Set  over 
the  fire  again,  and  stir  twelve  or  fifteen  minutes,  or  until  the  custard 
begins  to  thicken.  Have  ready  in  a bowl,  one-half  of  a grated 
cocoanut,  and  pour  the  thickening  custard  upon  it,  stirring  them  up 
together.  Flavor,  when  cold,  with  rose-water  or  bitter  almond : put 
into  a glass  dish  and  lay  carefully  on  it  the  other  half  of  the  grated 
cocoanut.  On  this  spread  a meringue  of  the  frothed  whites  of  three 
eggs  mixed  with  two  tablespoonfuls  of  powdered  sugar.  Eat  with 
sponge  cake. 


CdV^lifloWf  r. 


li<i‘\jP\cl\ofA\\jUoi\. 


C'^KKOt^. 


^ddcllf  of  /n\jtior\ 


A^pdrdg^^ 


KaI^. 


Summer  Bills  of  Fare. 

No.  15. 

BREAKFAST. 

Oatmeal  Porridge.  Mince  of  Ham  and  Eggs. 

French  Rolls. 

Baked  Potatoes.  Berries. 

Tea.  Coffee. 

' Mince  of  Ham  and  Eggs. 

Chop  the  remnants  of  a ham  which  will  no  longer  furnish  slices 
for  the  table,  put  into  a frying-pan  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled 
in  browned  flour,  a teaspoonful  of  vinegar,  a little  pepper  and  a 
quarter  teaspoonful  of  mustard.  Let  it  boil,  and  put  in  the  minced 
ham.  Stir  until  very  hot,  turn  into  a pie-dish,  set  in  the  oven,  and 
break  on  the  surface  five  or  six  raw  eggs.  Shut  up  in  the  oven  and 
bake  for  five  minutes,  just?  long  enough  to  “ set  ” the  eggs.  Serve 
in  the  pie  dish. 


French  Rolls. 

One  quart  of  flour,  sifted  with  a saltspoonful  of  salt  and  a tea- 
spoonful of  sugar ; two  cups  of  milk ; half-cake  of  compressed 
yeast ; two  eggs ; one  tablespoonful  of  melted  butter. 


321 


322 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Chop  the  butter  into  the  flour,  wliip  tlie  eggs  light,  mix  with 
the  milk  and,  making  a hole  in  the  flour,  pour  in  the  milk,  working 
down  the  flour  from  the  sides  until  3^011  have  dough.  Now,  add  the 
yeast  cake,  dissolved  in  three  tablespoonfuls  of  warm  water,  work 
briskly  and  lightly,  put  in  the  butter,  transfer  from  the  bowl  to  a 
floured  pastry  board  and  knead  for  ten  minutes,  still  handling  it 
briskl}^  Let  it  rise  over  night.  In  the  morning,  mold  with  your 
hands  into  round  or  oval  rolls,  set  in  a floured  pan  just  near  enough 
together  to  touch,  cover  with  a clean  cloth,  and  let  them  rise  for 
half  an  hour.  Gash  each  across  the  top  with  a knife  before  they  go 
into  the  oven.  Bake  from  forty  to  forty-five  minutes. 


LUNCHEON. 

Deviled  Crabs.  Cold  Welsh  Rarebit. 

Bread.  Crackers.  Olives. 

A Sweet  Omelette.  Iced  Tea. 


Deviled  Crabs. 

Pick  the  meat  from  the  shells  of  cold  boiled  crabs,  cut  it  fine, 
mix  with  it  a tablespoonful  of  cracker-crumbs  for  every  five  spoon- 
fuls of  the  meat,  the  juice  and  a pinch  of  the  grated  peel  of  a 
lemon,  a quarter  teaspoonful  of  made  mustard,  a pinch  of  cayenne 
pepper,  and  a quarter  teaspoonful  of  salt.  Melt  two  tablespoonfuls 
of  butter  in  a saucepan,  add  the  crab  mixture  and  toss  about  with  a 
silver  fork  until  very  hot.  Fill  the  back  shells  of  the  crab  with 
this,  .stick  tiny  bits  of  butter  on  top,  sift  fine  crumbs  over  all,  and 
cook  to  a light-brown  in  a quick  oven.  Pretty  and  inexpensive 
dishes  of  colored  china,  imitating  the  shells  and  claws  of  crabs,  in 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


^ 

which  deviled  and  scalloped  crabs  may  be  baked,  are  for  sale  by 
crockery  dealers.  Serve  hot.  Pass  lemon  and  crackers  with  this 
dish. 


Cold  Welsh  Rarebit. 

Spread  thin  slices  of  bread  with  a mixture  of  a cupful  of  dry 
grated  cheese  worked  to  a creamy  paste  with  half  a teaspoonful  of 
made  mustard,  a pinch  of  cayenne,  a quarter  teaspoonfnl  of  salt,  a 
tablespoonful  of  cream,  and  a generous  tablespoonful  of  butter. 
Cut  each  slice  in  half  and  fold  upon  itself,  the  mixture  inside.  Pare 
the  crust  from  the  bread  before  spreading  it. 


A Sweet  Omelette. 

Beat  seven  eggs  to  a froth,  whipping  in,  at  the  last,  a table- 
spoonful of  powdered  sugar.  Heat  a tablespoonful  of  butter  in  a 
frying  pan,  pour  in  the  eggs,  and  shake  with  an  easy,  regular 
motion,  always  in  the  same  direction— from  side  to  side,  or  to,  and 
from  you — until  the  omelette  is  “ set,”  and  begins  to  curl  over  at 
the  edges  in  the  line  of  the  motion.  Draw  to  the  side  of  the  stove, 
cover  quickly  with  currant  or  other  jelly,  and  roll  up  as  you  would 
a sheet  of  paper,  inclosing  the  jell3^  Lay  on  a hot  dish,  sift  pow- 
dered sugar  over  the  roll,  and  serve  immediately. 


Iced  Tea. 

Make  in  the  usual  way;  do  not  let  it  get  cold  on  the  leaves,  but 
strain  it  off  at  the  end  of  ten  minutes  after  the  boiling  water  is 
poured  on,  and  set  aside  to  cool.  In  using  it,  put  two  or  three 
lumps  of  sugar  in  a glass ; half  fill  it  with  broken  ice,  pour  in  the 
tea  and  stir  rapidly  until  the  sugar  melts.  It  is  a delicious  and 
refreshing  beverage. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


3^4 

DINNER. 

Mock  Turtle  Soup. 

Fried  Whitelish.  Fresh  Beef’s  Tongue  an  gratin. 

String  Beans.  Potatoes  an  Geneve. 

Corn  Starch  Custard.  Pineapple  Sliced,  with  Wine. 

Coffee. 


Mock  Turtlp:  Soup. 

A calf’s  head  dressed  with  the  skin  on;  four  quarts  of  cold 
water ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  and  twice  as  much  browned 
flour;  half  a can  of  tomatoes,  strained  through  a sieve;  juice  of  a 
lemon,  and  one  sliced  lemon  ; a teacupful  of  brown  sherry  ; pepper 
and  salt  to  taste  ; a tablespoonful  of  allspice,  powdered ; a raw  egg. 
Boil  the  head  slowly  for  four  hours  and  let  it  get  cold  in  the  liquor. 
Take  it  out  and  cut  the  flesh  from  the  bones.  Set  aside  the  fleshy 
parts  of  the  cheek  with  the  tongue,  to  be  cut  into  dice,  and  divide 
the  rest  into  two  parts  when  you  have  chopped  it  fine.  Return 
one-half  to  the  skimmed  liquor  with  the  bones,  and  set  it  where  it 
will  heat  slowly.  Make  the  other  into  forcemeat  with  the  brain, 
binding  it  with  a beaten  egg,  and  seasoning  well.  Roll  into  balls 
with  floured  hands  ; set  in  a quick  oven  to  harden,  and,  when  a firm 
coat  forms  on  the  outside,  take  them  out  and  set  them  away  to 
cool.  Rub  the  tomatoes  through  a sieve.  When  the  soup  has 
cooked  for  one  hour,  strain  out  bones  and  meat ; put  back  over  the 
fire  with  the  tomatoes,  and  while  it  heats,  make  a “ roux  ” in  the 
frying-pan  of  the  butter  and  flour,  stirring  to  a smooth,  brown,  oil- 
like mixture,  then  thinning  with  a few  spoonfuls  from  the  soup- 
kettle.  Add  the  spice,  pepper  and  salt,  and  stir  all  into  the  soup. 
Cook  a few  minutes  at  a sharp  boih  put  m the  meat-dice  and  lemon. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FAR®. 


325 


Ten  minutes  later,  drop  in  the  balls,  after  which  the  soup  should 
not  boil.  The  wine  goes  in  just  before  the  soup  is  poured  into  the 
tureen.  The  yolks  of  six  hard-boiled  eggs  are  an  improvement. 

Much  of  the  excellence  of  this  most  popular  of  soups  depends 
on  the  seasoning.  If  this  is  judiciously  done,  obedience  to  the 
directions  given  will  result  in  success — and  delight.  It  is  even, 
better  the  second  day  than  the  first. 


Fried  Whitefish, 

Clean,  without  splitting,  salt  and  pepper  them,  roll  in  cornmeal 
or  flour,  and  fry  in  cleared  dripping  or  in  sweet  lard.  Drain  off  the 
fat  and  serve  on  a hot  dish. 


Fresh  Beef’s  Tongue  au  gratin. 

Boil  for  an  hour,  lay  on  a dish  and  skin  with  a sharp  knife. 
Rub,  while  hot,  with  butter  beaten  to  a cream  with  a little  lemon 
juice,  salt  and  pepper ; put  into  a dripping  pan,  sift  fine  crumbs  all 
over  it  thickly,  pour  a few  spoonfuls  of  hot  soup-stock  into  the  pan  to 
prevent  burning,  and  bake  for  half  an  hour,  wetting  carefully, 
several  times  Vv^ith  the  gravy  from  the  pan.  For  sauce,  add  a table- 
spoonful  of  browned  flour  rubbed  up  with  the  liquor  in  which  the 
tongue  was  cooked,  to  that  left  in  the  dripping  pan,  pepper  and  salt 
fo  taste ; boil  one  minute,  and  pour  into  a gravy  boat. 


String  Beans. 

String  them  on  both  sides  with  a sharp  knife,  cut  into  inch 
lengths,  and  cook  tender  in  hot  salted  water.  The  time  will  depend 
on  the  age  and  size  ; drain  well,  stir  butter,  pepper  and  salt  through 
them,  and  dish. 


326 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


PoTATOEvS  AU  GENKV?:. 


Boil  and  mash  a dozen  potatoes,  making  them  soft  with  milk 
and  blitter,  heap  on  a pie-plate  in  a smooth  mound,  scoop  out  a 
cupful  from  the  center  of  the  heap,  leaving  a conical  cavity ; glaze 
the  inside  of  this,  and  the  outside  of  the  mound  with  white  of  egg, 
and  set  in  a quick  oven  to  harden  the  glaze.  Meanwhile,  beat  into 
a small  cupful  of  melted  butter  four  tablespoonfuls  of  grated  cheese, 
the  whipped  yolks  of  two  eggs,  salt  and  pepper  to  taste.  Heat  and 
stir,  and  when  thick  and  hot,  pour  into  the  crater  of  the  mound. 
Sift  line  crumbs  upon  the  sauce ; set  in  the  oven  to  brown  slightly 
and  send  to  table. 


Corn  Starch  Custard. 

One  quart  of  milk ; four  eggs ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  com 
starch ; five  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar ; a tablespoonful  of  butter  ; a 
little  salt  and  nutmeg. 

Scald  the  milk,  wet  up  the  corn  starch  with  cold  milk,  salt  it, 
and  stir  into  the  boiling,  until  it  is  thick  and  free  from  lumps. 
Take  it  off,  beat  in  the  butter  and  let  it  get  almost  cold  before 
whipping  in  the  frothed  eggs,  the  sugar  and  spice.  Beat  well  and 
long,  turn  into  a buttered  pudding-dish,  bake  to  a yellow-brown  ; 
sift  sugar  over  it  when  perfectly  cold,  and  eat  with  cream,  or  with 
brandied  peaches. 


Pineapple  sliced,  with  Wine. 

Pare  and  cut  the  fruit  into  dice,  put  a layer  in  a glass  dish, 
sugar  well,  and  wet  with  a few  spoonfuls  of  sherry  ; more  fruit, 
more  sugar  and  wine,  until  the  dish  is  full.  Strew  sugar  over  the 
top,  set  on  ice  and  eat  within  an  hour  after  the  dish  is  prepared,  as 
the  wine  toughens  the  fruit. 


/ 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

No.  16. 

BREAKFAST. 


327 


ui 


Hominy.  Stewed  Eels  a la  Francaise. 

Farina  Waffles.  Savory  Potatoes. 

Berries.  Coffee.  Frothed  Chocolate. 

Stewed  Eees  a la  Francaise. 

Clean,  skin  and  cut  the  eels  into  pieces  two  inches  long,  lay  in  a 
•saucepan  with  a little  minced  parsley,  a sprig  of  thyme,  a teaspoon- 
ful  of  minced  onion,  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  the  juice  of  half  a 
lemon,  pepper,  salt  and  just  enough  boiling  water  to  cover  them. 
Cook  gently  until  tender ; take  up  the  fish  with  a perforated  spoon, 
keep  hot  on  a chafing  dish  while  you  strain  the  gravy,  thicken  it 
with  flour  and  boil  it  three  minutes.  Beat  up  two  eggs,  stir  into 
the  sauce  quickly,  and  remove  from  the  fire  before  they  curdle. 
Pour  over  the  eels,  and  serve. 

Farina  Waffles. 

One  cup  cold,  boiled  farina ; half-cup  of  prepared  flour ; one 
pint  of  milk  ; two  eggs  ; one  tablespoonful  of  lard ; salt. 

Rub  the  farina  smooth  with  the  melted  lard,  work  in  milk  and 
salt,  beat  hard  before  adding  the  flour  and  eggs,  and  afterward.  The 
batter  should  be  light  and  lumpless.  Bake  in  greased  waffle-irons. 


Savory  Potatoes. 

Mince  a quarter  pound  of  fat  salt  pork ; add  a teaspoonful  of 
chopped  onion,  and  a tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley,  eight  pota- 
toes, peeled  and  quartered ; cover  with  cold  water,  and  cook  until 
the  potatoes  are  done.  Drain,  mash,  mound  on  a pie  plate,  sift 
Tumbs  over  them  and  brown  in  the  oven. 


HOUSE  AND  PIOMK. 


33S 

Erothkd  Chocolatp:. 

Make  in  the  usual  way,  turn  iiito  a liot  bowl,  and  with  a 
“ Dover  ” egg-beater,  whisk  in  the  frotlied  whites  of  three  eggs. 
Pour  into  the  heated  choeolate  pot,  and  it  is  ready  for  use. 


LUNCHEON. 

Minee  of  Chiekeii  and  Eggs.  Shrimp  Salad. 

Thill  Bread  and  Butter.  Craekers. 

Cheese.  Olives.  Huekleberry  Cake. 


Mince  of  Chicken  and  EgGvS. 

Chop  cold  boiled  or  roasted  fowl ; mix  up  with  a cupful  of  drawn 
butter,  season  with  pepper,  salt,  a pinch  of  nutmeg,  and  pour  into  a 
bake-dish.  Set  in  the  oven  until  a skin  forms  on  top,  and  the  sur- 
face shakes  with  the  ebullition  of  the  heated  heart.  Lay  as  many 
poached  eggs  on  top  as  will  lie  easily  in  the  dish,  and  serve. 


Shrimp  Salad. 

Open  a can  of  shrimps  some  hours  before  you  want  to  use  them, 
and  turn  upon  a dish.  Set  on  ice  until  needed.  Line  a salad  bowl 
or  a broad  salver  with  leaves  of  cool,  crisp  lettuce  ; lay  the  shrimps 
on  them',  and  pour  mayonnaise  dressing  on  the  fish,  or  send  it 
around  with  the  salad.  A popular  dish  in  hot  weather. 


Thin  Brp:ad  and  Butter. 

Cut  fresh  Graham  bread  thin,  when  you  have  buttered  the  end 
of  the  loaf  before  cutting  each  slice  ; pare  off  the  crust,  and  pile 
on  a folded  napkin  in  a plate. 


329 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Huckleberry  Cake. 

Two  cups  of  sugar ; one  cup  of  butter ; three  cups  of  Hecker’s 
prepared  flour ; one  cup  of  milk ; five  eggs  ; one  teaspoonful  of 
nutmeg,  and  one  of  cinnamon ; one  quart  of  huckleberries. 

Cream  butter  and  sugar ; beat  in  the  whipped  yolks,  the  spice, 
milk,  flour,  the  frothed  whites,  finally,  the  berries,  dredged  whitely 
with  flour,  breaking  them  as  little  as  possible.  Bake  in  shallow 
tins  or  in  pate-pans.  It  is  better  the  second  day  after  it  is  baked. 


DINNER. 

Tomato  Soup.  Lobster  Pates. 

Beef  Roasts  P Orleans,  New  Potatoes.  Young  Onions. 
Banana  Ice  Cream.  Cake.  Coffee. 


Tomato  Soup. 

Two  quarts  of  tomatoes,  peeled  and  sliced ; three  pints  of  broth — 
veal  or  chicken  is  best ; one  tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley,  and 
the  same  quantity  of  minced  onion  ; one  teaspoonful  of  sugar ; pep- 
per and  salt  to  taste ; browned  flour  thickeuing  ; a tablespoonful  of 
butter ; fried  bread  dice. 

Stew  the  tomatoes  in  the  broth  until  they  are  broken  all  to  pieces, 
add  herbs  and  onion,  stew  twenty  minutes,  rub  through  a colander, 
season,  thicken  with  a tablespoonful  of  browned  flour,  rubbed  in  one 
of  butter ; boil  two  minutes,  and  pour  upon  the  fried  bread  in  the 
tureen. 

Lobster  Pates. 

Meat  of  one  large  lobster,  or  two  small  ones  ; two  cups  of  veal 
broth ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; beaten  yolks  of  two  eggs ; 


330 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


juice  of  a lemon;  one  heaping  tablespoonful  of  flour  rubbed  up 
with  the  butter  ; salt  and  cayenne  to  liking  ; puff  paste  for  shell. 

Heat  the  broth  to  a boil,  skim,  and  stir  in  the  buttered  flour; 
put  in  the  lemon-juice  and  seasoning,  the  beaten  3^olks,  the  lobster, 
cut  up  small,  and  set  in  boiling  water  over  the  fire  ten  minutes, 
stirring  now  and  then.  Have  ready  pate-pans  lined  with  pastry, 
baked  in  a brisk  oven,  slip  out  the  “ shells,”  fill  with  the  hot  lobster 
mixture,  set  in  the  oven  three  minutes,  and  serve.  If  you  do  not 
care  to  take  the  trouble  of  pastry-making  in  hot  weather,  buy 
empty  pate-shells  from  a pastry  cook,  heat  and  fill  them  with  the 
lobster  mixture.  This  is  an  elegant  supper-dish,  as  well  as  an 
entree. 


Beef  Roast  a T Orleans, 

A rolled  rib  roast  is  best  for  this  purpose.  The  night  before  you 
mean  to  cook  it,  put  into  a broad  pan  three  tablespoonfuls  of  salad 
oil,  four  tablespoonfuls  of  chopped  onion,  a dozen  whole  pepper- 
corns, and  the  juice  of  a large  lemon.  Lay  the  roast  in  this,  and  at 
the  end  of  two  hours,  turn  it  over,  anointing  the  edges  well  with  the 
sauce.  In  the  morning,  turn  it  again.  When  ready  to  cook  it,  put 
into  the  dripping-pan,  dash  a cupful  of  boiling  water  over  the  top, 
and  as  it  heats,  baste  with  the  sauce  in  which  it  has  lain  over  night, 
mingled  with  hot  water  and  strained.  Cook  ten  minutes  to  the 
pound,  and  just  before  taking  it  up,  baste  all  over  with  butter,  sift 
flour  on  the  top,  and  as  soon  as  this  froths  and  browns,  transfer  the 
meat  to  a hot  dish.  Garnish  with  water-cresses. 


New  Potatoes. 

Are  so  indigestible  until  fully  grown  that  to  advise  cooking  them 
is  like  recommending  a diet  of  boiled  bullets.  When  ripe — and 


SUMMER  BILLS  OP  PARE. 


331 


not  until  then — they  are  a valuable  contribution  to  a Summer  bill 
of  fare.  Rub  the  skins  off  with  a coarse  towel,  wash  in  cold  water 
and  drop  into  boiling,  a little  salted ; cook  fast  for.  twenty  minutes  ; 
turn  off  the  water,  sprinkle  with  salt  and  set  at  the  back  of  the 
range  in  an  uncovered  pot  to  dry  off  into  mealiness. 


Banana  Ick-Crkam. 

One  quart  of  milk  and  the  same  of  rich,  sweet  cream ; three 
cups  of  sugar ; six  eggs ; six  large,  ripe  bananas,  peeled  and  cut 
up  small ; bit  of  soda  in  the  milk. 

Heat  the  milk  to  scalding ; beat  eggs  and  sugar  together,  and 
pour  the  hot  milk  over  them  gradually,  stirring  all  the  time ; set 
over  the  fire  in  a farina  kettle,  and  stir  until  well-thickened.  Let  it 
get  cold ; mix  in  the  cream  ; pnt  it  into  an  ice-cream  churn,  and 
when  half  frozen,  put  in  the  minced  banana  and  freeze  hard. 


No.  17. 

BREAKFAST. 

Milk  Mush.  Tom  Thumb  Omelettes. 

Buttered  Potatoes.  Rye  Muffins. 

Pruit.  Tea.  Coffee 


Milk  Mush. 

Three  cups  of  hot  milk ; one  cup  of  boiling  water ; one  scant 
cup  of  white  Indian-meal ; one  even-teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Scald  the  salted  meal  with  the  boiling  water,  and  stir  into  the 
hot  milk ; boil  in  a farina-kettle  for  twenty  minntes,  stirring  all  the 
time ; beat  hard  at  the  last,  and  serve  in  an  uncovered  dish.  Bat 
with  sugar  and  cream. 


332 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Tom  Thumb  Omlettes. 


Eiglit  eggs  ; half  cup  of  rich  milk  ; salt  and  pepper ; a table- 
spoonful  of  cheese. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  season,  stir  in  the  milk  and  grated  cheese. 
Half  fill  eight  pate-pans,  buttered,  and  set  in  a dripping  pan  with  half 
an  inch  of  boiling  water  in  it ; shut  np  in  a hot  oven,  and  as  soon 
as  they  are  “ set,”  turn  out  on  a hot  dish.  Yon  may  vary  the  dish 
by  substituting  minced  parsley  and  thyme  for  the  grated  cheese, 
and  when  dished,  pour  drawn  butter  over  the  omelettes.  They 
make  a pretty  show  when  garnished  with  curled  parsley,  a tiny 
sprig  being  stuck  in  the  middle  of  each  mold. 


Buttered  Potatoes. 

Boil  with  the  skins  on ; peel  carefully ; lay  in  a heated  bake- 
dish ; butter  plentifully ; pepper  and  salt ; cover,  and  set  in  the 
oven  ten  minutes,  rolling  them  over  in  the  melted  butter  several 
times.  Remove  with  a split  spoon  to  a hot  deep  dish  ; add  half  a 
cup  of  hot  milk  to  the  butter  left  in  the  bake-dish,  stir  well  and 
pour  boiling  hot  over  the  potatoes. 


Rye  Muffins. 

Three  cups  of  rye  flour ; one  cup  of  Indian-meal ; one  cup  of 
hot  water,  and  three  of  lukewarm  milk ; an  even  tablespoonful  of 
sugar  and  a full  one  of  lard ; two  teaspoonfuls  of  baking  powder, 
and  one  of  salt  sifted  three  times  with  flour  and  meal ; three  eggs, 
well  beaten. 

Sift  meal,  flour,  salt  and  baking  powder  three  times  together  in 
a bowl ; dissolve  lard  and  sugar  in  the  boiling  water  ; add  the  milk 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


333 


and  wet  up  the  dry  mass ; lastly,  beat  in  the  eggs,  whipped  to  a 
froth ; stir  hard  for  one  minute  and  bake  in  small  tins  or  in  muffin 
rings  on  the  griddle. 

LUNCHEON. 

Curried  Lobster. 

Pickled  Lambs’  Tongues  with  Mayonnaise. 

Buttered  Brown  Bread. 

Oatmeal  Crackers  with  Roquefort  Cheese. 

Junket  and  Cake. 


Curried  Lobster. 

Meat  of  a large  lobster,  or  of  two  small  ones,  or  the  contents  of 
a can  of  preserved  lobster ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  ; half  a cup 
of  strained  oyster-liquor ; half  a glass  of  wine  ; one  teaspoonful  of 
curry  powder ; half  a cup  of  raw  rice  ; salt,  and  a pinch  of  grated 
lemon-peel. 

Soak  the  rice  three  hours,  then  salt,  and  cook  it  in  enough  boil- 
ing water  to  cover  it  well,  shaking  up  from  time  to  time ; when 
tender,  drain  off  all  the  water,  and  set  at  the  back  of  the  range  to 
dry  off  the  rice;  dish  hot;  heat  butter  and  oyster-juice  together, 
season  with  curry  and  lemon-peel ; add  the  lobster,  cut  into  half-inch 
bits,  toss  lightly  with  a silver  fork  until  very  hot,  put  in  the  wine 
and  turn  upon  a heated  dish  ; in  helping,  put  a spoonful  of  rice  on 
each  plate,  another  of  lobster  upon  it. 


Pickled  Lambs’  Tongues  with  Mayonnaise. 

Split  and  lay  the  tongues  in  the  center  of  a broad,  cool,  china 
dish ; about  them  set  thickly  crisp  lettuce  leaves  ; have  in  a “fancy 


334 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


bowl  pitcher  plenty  of  mayonnaise  dressing.  In  helping,  lay  on 
each  plate  first,  a curled  leaf  of  lettuce,  within  it,  half  a tongue,  and 
pour  a generous  spoonful  of  the  dressing  over  both. 


Oatmeal  Cracker.^. 

Two  cups  of  oatmeal,  and  one  of  prepared  flour;  half  cup  of 
butter  chopped  up  with  the  meal  and  flour  ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; 
two  cups  of  cold  water. 

Mix  into  a pretty  stiff  paste,  roll  into  a thin  sheet,  cut  out  as 
you  would  biscuits,  and  bake  on  a griddle,  turning  when  the  under- 
side is  brown ; leave  them  in  a cooling  open  oven  all  night  to  dry. 


Junket. 

One  quart  of  lukewarm  milk  ; one  tablespoonful  of  liquid  ren- 
net ; half  a glass  of  sherry. 

Stir  all  well  together,  and  leave  in  the  kitchen,  covered  to  keep 
out  dust  and  flies,  until  it  is  like  freshly-loppered  milk,  then  set  on 
ice  until  you  are  ready  for  it.  If  left  to  stand  in  a warm  place  too 
long,  it  will  break  into  curds  and  whey.  Eat  with  cream  and  sugar. 
Pass  cake  with  it. 

DINNER. 

Calf’s  Feet  Soup  with  Poached  Eggs. 

Potted  Ducks.  Potatoes  a la  Napolitaine, 

Stuffed  Plgg  Plant.  Shrimp  and  Cheese  Salad. 

Charlotte  a La  Royale,  Brandied  Peaches. 

Coffee. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Calf’s  Feet  Soup  with  Poached  Eggs. 


335 


Two  pairs  of  calf’s  feet;  half  an  onion,  two  sprigs  of  thyme, 
and  the  same  of  parsley  ; a blade  of  mace ; salt  and  pepper ; glass 
of  sherry  ; a slice  of  lean,  corned  ham  ; three  quarts  of  cold  water  ; 
six  eggs. 

Put  feet,  herbs,  ham,  onion  and  water  over  the  fire,  and  cook  slowly 
until  the  liquor  is  reduced  to  two  quarts.  Season,  and  set  away 
with  the  meat  in  it.  On  the  morrow,  skim,  take  out  the  fat  and 
strain  the  broth.  Put  on  the  range  in  a soup-pot,  and  when  hot, 
throw  in  the  white  and  shell  of  an  egg.  Boil  slowly  five  minutes, 
strain  through  a double  bag  without  pressing,  heat  again,  add  the 
wine,  and  pour  into  the  tureen.  Poach  six  eggs  neatly  and  lay  on 
the  surface. 


Potted  Ducks. 

Clean,  wash  well,  and  truss  without  stuffing,  tying  down  legs 
and  wings  with  tape.  Fry  half  a dozen  slices  of  fat  pork  crisp  in  a 
broad-bottomed  pot,  with  half  an  onion,  sliced,  and  a little  powdered 
sage.  Lay  in  the  ducks,  cover  with  warm — not  hot — water,  fit  on 
a lid,  and  cook  very  slowly  and  steadily  three  hours.  Take  up  the 
ducks,  undo  the  tapes,  and  lay  on  a hot  dish.  Strain  the  gravy, 
thicken  with  brown  flour ; boil  up  sharply,  pour  a few  spoonfuls 
over  the  fowls,  the  rest  into  a gravy-boat.  Send  around  tart  jelly 
with  them. 

Potatoes  a la  Napolitaine, 

Peel  the  potatoes,  and  lay  in  cold  water  for  an  hour.  Cut  into 
quarters  lengthwise,  pack  in  a bake-dish,  salt  and  pepper  them, 
pour  in  a cup  of  milk  into  which  you  have  dropped  a tiny  bit  of  soda ; 
strew  among  the  quarters  a tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  into  bits  and 


336 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


rolled  iu  flour  ; also,  a little  finely-cut  parsley.  Set  in  a dripping 
pan  of  liot  water,  fit  a tight  cover  on  the  bake-dish  and  cook  ten- 
der, say  about  forty-five  minutes.  Serve  iu  the  dish. 

Stuffed  EgCx  Plant. 

Parboil  for  fifteen  minutes,  if  large  ; for  ten,  if  small.  Make  an 
incision  in  one  side,  and,  inserting  your  finger,  scrape  out  the 
seeds  ; prop  open  the  slit  with  a stick  and  lay  in  ice  cold  salt  and 
water  for  an  hour,  then  stuff  with  a paste  of  bread  crumbs,  minced 
fat  pork,  a little  parsley,  salt,  pepper  and  melted  butter ; bind  with 
tape  and  lay  in  the  dripping  pan  ; pour  in  a cupful  of  boiling  water, 
and  as  it  bakes,  wash  over  with  butter-and-water.  When  a straw 
will  penetrate  easily,  take  up  the  egg-plant,  remove  the  tape,  anoint 
well  with  butter,  strew  fine  crumbs  over  it,  and  set  in  a tin  plate — 
the  cut  side  downward — on  the  top  grating  of  the  oven  to  brown 
lightly.  Slice  when  served,  cutting  clear  through  and  crosswise. 

Shrimp  and  Cheese  Salad. 

One  can  of  pickled  shrimps  ; one  cupful  of  dry,  grated  cheese ; 
salt,  pepper  and  vinegar ; mayonnaise  dressing ; lettuce. 

Mince  the  shrimp  rather  coarsely,  mix  with  the  cheese,  wet  with 
a little  vinegar — two  tablespoonfuls  should  do — in  which  have  been 
stirred  a saltspoonful  of  salt  and  a pinch  of  cayenne ; mound  in 
the  center  of  a dish,  surround  with  crisp  lettuce,  and  send  around 
mayonnaise  dressing  with  it. 

Charlotte  a la  Roy  ale. 

One  package  of  gelatine  ; a quart  of  milk — half  cream  if  you 
can  get  it;  six  eggs ; a cup-and-a-half  of  sugar;  a saltspoonful  of 
salt ; two  teaspoonfuls  of  vanilla  extract ; a sponge  cake  sliced,  or 
a pound  of  lady-fingers. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


337 


Soak  the  gelatine  three  hours  in  a cup  of  cold  water  ; heat  the 
milk  (not  forgetting  the  bit  of  soda)  in  a farina-kettle,  and  when 
hot,  stir  in  the  gelatine.  When  it  is  quite  dissolved,  pour  on  the 
yolks  and  sugar,  beaten  light ; set  in  cold  water  until  cool.  Beat 
the  whites  to  a stiff  froth,  add  the  congealed  “ jaune  mange,”  spoon- 
ful by  spoonful,  beating  steadily  until  you  have  a light  yellow 
sponge,  flavoring  with  vanilla  as  you  work.  Line  a glass  dish  with 
cake,  put  in  the  sponge,  cover  with  more  cake  and  set  on  ice  until 
needed.  Pass  brandied  peaches  with  it. 


No.  18. 

BREAKFAST. 

Molded  Wheat  Germ  Meal  Porridge. 

Scalloped  Codfish,  with  Cheese.  Buttermilk  Biscuit. 

Chopped  Potatoes. 

Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Molded  Wheat  Germ  Meal  Porridge. 

Make  the  porridge  as  before  directed,  but  over  night,  and  mold 
it  in  cups  wet  with  cold  water.  In  the  morning  turn  them  out,  and 
eat  with  sugar  and  cream,  or  with  cream  only. 


Scalloped  Codfish  with  Cheese. 

Soak  a pound  of  salted  codfish  six  hours  in  tepid  water,  then 
boil  it.  When  cold,  pick  into  flakes  with  a fork  and  season  with 
pepper.  . Heat  a cup  of  milk  to  a boil,  stir  into  it  a tablespoonful  of 
butter  rolled  in  two  of  prepared  flour ; mix  with  the  picked  fish,  and 


338 


HOUSE  AND  HOMP:. 


pour  into  a bake  dish.  Strew  grated  cheese  thickly  on  top,  and 
bake  in  a quick  oven  to  a delicate  brown.  It  is  yet  nicer  if  you  add 
a raw  egg  to  the  mixture  before  cooking  it. 


Buttermilk  Biscuit. 

One  quart  of  flour ; one  teaspoonful  of  soda  sifted  three  times 
with  the  flour,  and  a teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  pint  of  really  sour 
buttermilk ; one  tablespoonful  of  melted  butter. 

Sift  flour,  soda  and  salt  into  a bowl,  stir  butter  and  milk 
together,  and  pour  into  a hole  in  the  flour.  Mix  quickly,  and  with 
as  little  handling  as  possible.  Be  careful  on  this  point,  also,  not  to 
get  the  dough  too  stiff.  Have  your  oven  ready  and  hot.  As  soon 
as  the  biscuits  are  cut  out,  put  them  in  and  bake.  They  are  excel- 
lent if  mixed — as  the  successful  painter  did  his  colors — “ with 
brains.”  A heavy  hand  and  heavy  wits  can  result  in  nothing  but 
sodden  solidity. 


Chopped  Potatoes. 

Mince  cold  boiled  potatoes  coarsely  with  a sharp  ehopper,  and 
stir  with  a teaspoonful  of  finely  chopped  onion  and  three  times  as 
much  parsley,  into  a little  hot  dripping.  Toss  until  hot  all  through, 
and  dish  at  once. 


LUNCHEON. 


Pates  de  Veau.  Tomato  Salad. 


Chicken  Sandwiches. 


Berries  and  Cream. 


Cocoanut  Cake. 


Iced  Coffee. 


SUMMSR  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Pates  de  Veau. 


339 


Mince  one  pound  of  cold  roast,  or  boiled,  veal  with  half  as  much 
ham.  Season  sharply  with  pepper  and  a pinch  of  mace.  Wet  with 
enough  gravy,  or  soup  stock  to  make  a soft  mince,  and  stir  in  a 
tablespoonful  of  fine  crumbs.  Line  pate-pans  with  pastry,  and 
bake  in  a brisk  oven.  Slip  from  the  tins  while  hot,  fill  with  the  hot 
“ mince,”  sift  crumbs  on  top,  stick  a bit  of  butter  in  each,  and  brown 
lightly  on  the  upper  grating  of  the  oven. 

Tomato  Salad. 

Peel  ripe  tomatoes  with  a sharp  knife,  slice  crosswise,  lay  in  a 
salad  bowl,  and  season  on  the  table  with  salt,  a little  sugar,  pepper, 
oil  and  vinegar.  Keep  the  tomatoes  on  ice  until  actually  served. 
They  cannot  be  too  cold.  Never  loosen  the  skins  by  pouring  boil- 
ing water  on  them,  and  refrain  as  scrupulously  from  serving  them 
with  the  skins  on. 


Chicken  Sandwiches. 

Pare  the  crust  from  thin  slices  of  bread,  and  cut  them  into  trian- 
gles of  uniform  size.  Mince  cold  chicken  freed  from  skin  and  fat, 
quite  fine,  rub  in  a little  butter,  season  to  your  liking,  and  spread 
between  every  two  triangles,  pressing  the  pieces  of  bread  gently 
but  firmly  on  the  mixture.  Pass  with  the  tomato  salad. 


CocoANUT  Cake. 

One  scant  cup  of  butter ; two  full  cups  of  sugar ; three  full  cups 
of  prepared  flour ; one  scant  cup  of  milk ; one  half  teaspoonful  of 
soda,  sifted  three  times  with  the  flour ; four  eggs ; half  of  a grated 
cocoanut;  juice  of  half  a lemon,  and  a teaspoonful  of  grated  peel. 


340 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Cream,  butter  and  sugar;  beat  in  the  lemon  juice  and  peel  until 
the  mixture  is  very  light.  Next,  go  in  the  beaten  egg-yolks,  then 
the  milk,  stiffened  whites  and  flour  alternately  ; lastly,  the  cocoanut. 
Bake  in  small  tins.  Eat  while  fresh,  but  not  warm. 


DINNER. 

Green  Pea  Soup.  Fried  Scallops. 

Roast  Fowl  a la  Guy  at.  Young  Onions. 

Mashed  Potatoes.  Lettuce  Salad.  Queen  of  Puddings. 

Coffee. 


Green  Pea  Soup. 

Two  quarts  of  liquor  in  which  corned  beef  or  mutton  has  been 
boiled ; two  quarts  of  green  peas ; bunch  of  sweet  herbs,  including 
a shallot  or  young  onion ; one  even  tablespoonful  of  prepared  flour, 
rubbed  up  with  one  of  butter ; pepper  to  taste  ; dice  of  fried  bread. 

Boil,  skim  and  strain  the  liquor,  and  return  it  to  the  fire  with 
the  pea-pods.  Cook  them  twenty  minutes,  strain  them  out  and  put 
in  peas  and  onion.  Cook  until  the  peas  are  soft  and  broken  ; rub 
all  through  a colander  back  into  the  pot,  stir  in  the  floured  butter  ; 
season,  boil  two  minutes,  and  pour  upon  the  bread  in  the  tureen. 
The  advantage  of  using  flour  in  this  receipt  is  to  prevent  separa- 
tion of  the  pea-pulp  and  the  liquor. 


Fried  Scallops. 

Wipe  each,  roll  in  beaten  egg,  then,  in  fine  crumbs,  and  fry  in 
liot  lard  or  dripping  to  a fine  brown.  Shake  off  the  fat  in  a split 
spoon,  and  lay  in  rows  on  a hot  dish.  Garnish  with  parsley.  Pass 
hot  crackers,  mashed  potato  and  cut  lemon  with  them. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Roast  Fowl  a la  Guyot. 


341 


One  tender,  full-grown  chicken  ; a sweetbread,  boiled,  blanched 
and  minced ; a dozen  mushrooms  chopped ; a tablespoonful  of 
minced,  fat  salt  pork ; half  a cupful  of  fine  crumbs ; slices  of  fat 
salt  pork. 

Draw  and  truss  the  fowl  as  usual,  and  stuff  with  a forcemeat, 
made  of  the  minced  sweetbread,  mushrooms,  pork,  bread  crumbs 
and  seasoning.  Bind  thin  slices  of  pork  over  the  breast,  lay  in  a 
dripping  pan,  with  a little  boiling  water  and  a tablespoonful  of 
browned  flour  wet  up  with  cold  water.  Boil  up  sharply,  and  serve 
in  a boat. 


Queen  of  Puddings. 

One  and  a-half  cups  of  sugar ; one  quart  of  milk ; two  cups  of 
very  dry,  fine  crumbs ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter ; one  quart  of 
red  raspberries. 

Rub  butter,  and  one  cup  of  sugar  to  a cream  ; beat  in  the  yolks. 
The  crumbs  should,  all  this  time,  be  soaking  in  the  milk.  Beat 
them  into  eggs  and  buttered  sugar,  and,  when  light,  pour  the  mix- 
ture into  a buttered  bake-dish.  Bake,  until  the  middle  is  well-set ; 
draw  to  the  oven  door  ; cover  with  berries,  strew  sugar  thickly  among 
and  over  them,  and  spread  deftly  over  all  a meringue  of  the  frothed 
whites  of  the  eggs,  stiffened  with  two  tablespoonfuls  of  powdered 
sugar.  Shut  the  door,  and  brown  the  meringue  lightly.  Set  away 
where  it  will  cool  quickly,  then  leave  on  ice  until  wanted.  Eat  with 
cream.  This  is  not  a new  receipt,  but  among  the  many  variations 
of  the  far-famed  “ Queen,”  I regard  the  above  as  the  simplest  and 
best.  It  is  better  made  with  strawberries  than  with  any  other  fruit, 
but  is  always  delicious  and  popular. 


342 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


No.  IG. 

BREAKFAST. 


Green  Corn  Porridge. 

Mamma’s  Muffins. 

Melons. 


Tea. 


Deviled  Kidneys. 
Stewed  Potatoes. 

Coffee. 


Green  Corn  Porridge. 


Shave  the  grains  from  a dozen  ears  of  green  corn,  using  a sharp 
knife  for  the  purpose,  and  leaving  no  grain  whole.  Put  into  a 
farina  kettle  ; barely  cover  with  milk,  fit  on  a lid  and  steam,  rather 
than  stew,  for  half  an  hour  after  the  boil  is  reached.  Stir  in  then  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  corn-starch,  boil  five  minutes,  beat 
in  two  eggs  already  frothed,  cook  for  two  minutes  more  and  turn  out. 
Eat  with  butter  or  with  cream,  or,  still  again,  with  sugar  and 
cream.  It  is  very  good. 


Deviled  Kidneys. 


Split  the  kidneys  (veal  or  lamb),  in  half,  taking  ,ont  the  hard 
cores,”  and  dip  in  a mixture  of  butter  (a  teaspoonful  for  each 
kidney),  made-mustard,  lemon-juice  and  a suspicion  of  cayenne. 
Lay  them  within  an  oyster-broiler  and  cook  gently  fifteen  minutes, 
turning  them,  over  a clear  fire.  Rub  a chafing  dish  (hot)  with 
half  an  onion,  lay  in  a teaspoonful  of  butter,  and  when  this  has 
melted,  dish  the  kidneys. 


Mamma’s  Muffins. 


Three  cups  of  prepared  flour  ; one  cup  (even)  of  white  cornmeal ; 
a quart  of  lukewarm  milk  ; four  eggs  ; half  a teaspoonful  of  salt ; 
one  tablespoonful  of  lard,  and  one  of  sugar,  stirred  with  the  warm 
milk. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


343 


Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  the  milk,  lard  and  sugar ; sift  salt, 
meal  and  flour  together  twice,  and  put  in  last.  Beat  hard,  and  bake 
in  muffin  tins. 


Melons. 

All  varieties  of  the  cantelope  family,  musk,  and  nutmeg  melons, 
are  welcome  to  the  summer  breakfast  table.  Cut  each  in  half,  length- 
wise, scoop  out  the  seeds,  put  a lump  of  ice  in  the  hollows  thus 
made,  and  send  to  table.  They  are  eaten  by  Southerners  with  pep- 
per and  salt,  at  the  North  with  sugar.  Give  your  guests  their  choice 
of  condiments. 


LUNCHEON, 

Codfish  Scalloped,  with  Mushrooms. 

Raw  Tomato  Salad.  Terhune  Corn  Bread. 

Dried  Rusk  and  Milk.  Berries. 


Codfish  vScalloped,  with  Mushrooms. 

Two  cupfuls  of  cold,  boiled  codfish  (fresh),  “picked’’  rather 
coarsely ; one  cupful  of  good  drawn  butter ; half  a can  of  mushrooms  ; 
half  a cup  of  fine  crumbs  ; pepper  and  salt. 

Mince  the  mushrooms,  and  strew  between  the  layers  of  the  fish  in 
a buttered  dish,  moistening,  as  you  go  on,  with  the  drawn  butter, 
and  seasoning  with  pepper  and  salt.  Cover  the  topmost  layer  with 
the  drawn  butter,  then  with  the  crumbs,  stick  bits  of  butter  in  these, 
and  bake,  covered,  half  an  hour,  then  brown.  You  can  make  this 
dish  of  salt  cod,  soaked  before  it  is  cooked,  lu  this  case,  beat  up  a 
couple  of  eggs  in  the  drawn  butter. 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Raw  Tomato  Salad. 

Peel  very  cold  tomatoes,  cut  in  two,  crosswise,  aud  serve  with 
mayonnaise  or  plain  dressing. 


Terhune  Corn  Bread. 

Two  cups  of  white  corn  meal ; one  cup  of  flour  ; two  teaspoon- 
fuls of  white  sugar;  three  cups  of  sour  or  buttermilk.  (Half 
“ loppered  ” cream  makes  it  particularly  good.) 

One  rounded  teaspoon ful  of  soda,  and  one  of  salt  sifted  three 
times  with  flour  and  meal  ; one  large  tablespoonful  of  lard. 

Sift  flour,  meal,  salt  and  soda  into  a bowl  ; beat  lard  and  sugar 
together  and  stir  into  the  milk  ; pour  the  latter  into  a hole  in  the 
middle  of  the  flour,  and  stir  all  gradually  to  a good  batter ; beat 
hard  with  upward  strokes,  raking  the  bottom  of  the  bowl  with  each 
sweep,  for  two  minutes  ; turn  into  a greased  pudding  mold  set  in  a 
pot  of  boiling  water,  and  cook  steadily  four  hours,  keeping  the 
water  about  it  at  a slow  boil  all  the  time.  Turn  out  and  eat  hot. 
It  will  be  found  very  nice. 


Dried  Rusk  and  Milk  (Excellent). 

Two  cups  of  milk ; two  eggs  ; half  a cup  of  butter ; half  of  a 
yeast  cake,  dissolved  in  warm  water ; one  quart  of  flour  ; one  even 
teaspoonful  of  salt.  Mix  the  milk,  butter,  yeast  and  a pint  of  flour 
into  a sponge,  and  let  it  rise  five  or  six  hours,  or  until  light ; beat 
in  the  eggs,  salt  and  the  rest  of  the  flour ; roll  out  the  dough  into  a 
paste  more  than  half  an  inch  thick ; cut  into  round  biscuits,  set 
rows  of  them  in  a baking  pan,  rub  the  tops  lightly  with  butter,  and 
put  another  row  on  these  ; let  them  rise  for  half  an  hour  before 
baking.  Remove  from  the  oven,  and  let  them  get  nearly  cold  before 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


345 


dividing  the  upper  from  the  lower  stratum  ; pile  lightly  in  pans, 
and  leave  in  a cooking  oven  all  night  to  dry.  They  should  not  be 
browned  at  all  in  drying.  Hang  them  in  a clean  bag  in  the  kitchen 
closet,  or  other  dry,  warm  place.  In  two  days  they  will  be  ready 
for  use.  Set  a bowl  at  each  place  ; lay  a rusk,  cracked  in  two  or 
three  places,  in  it,  a bit  of  ice  on  this,  and  pour  enough  rich  milk  to 
cover  the  rusk  well.  In  three  minutes,  if  well  dried,  the  desiccated 
biscuits  will  be  soft  and  delicious.  Pass  sugar  and  berries  as  an 
accompaniment. 

DINNER. 

Lakewood  Chowder.  Chicken,  fried  whole. 

Potato  Fritters.  Summer  Squash.  Cucumber  Salad. 

Peaches  and  Whipped  Cream.  Sponge  Cake. 

Black  Coffee. 


Lakewood  Chowder. 

Four  pounds  of  cod  or  halibut ; half  a pound  of  sliced  fat  salt 
pork ; two  minced  onions ; eighteen  Boston  crackers,  split,  toasted, 
and  well  buttered ; a glass  of  Sauterne  or  other  clear,  sour  wine ; 
pepper  and  salt ; cold  water ; pint  of  milk. 

Fry  pork  and  one  sliced  onion  in  the  bottom  of  the  chowder 
pot ; take  out  the  pork  and  bits  of  onion  with  a perforated  spoon 
and  lay  the  fish  in  the  fat ; sprinkle  with  raw  onion  and  season 
with  pepper  and  salt  as  you  go  on ; cover  with  cold  water  when  all 
the  fish  is  in  ; put  over  the  fire,  bring  to  a boil  and  then  cook  gently 
forty  minutes.  Soak  the  split,  toasted  and  buttered  crackers  ten 
minutes  in -boiling  hot  milk  ; take  them  up  carefully,  as  you  must 
put  a layer  in  the  bottom  of  the  tureen  when  the  chowder  is  done. 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Before  taking  the  pot  from  the  fire,  stir  in  the  wine.  Put  several 
strained  spoonfuls  of  the  chowder  on  the  soaked  crackers  in  the 
tureen,  then  more  crackers,  and  more  fish,  until  all  are  used  up. 
Thicken  the  liquor  left  in  the  pot  with  a great  spoonful  of  butter 
rolled  in  flour.  Boil  up  and  pour  on  top  of  fish  and  crackers.  Pass 
sliced  lemon  with  the  chowder. 


Chickens  Fried  Whole. 

A well-grown  broiler.  It  must  be  young  and  tender.  Sweet, 
salted  lard,  or  clarified  dripping ; flour,  salt  and  pepper ; two  or 
three  slices  of  young  onions  dropped  in  the  hot  fat. 

Draw,  and  wash  out  the  chicken  with  soda  and  water,  rinse  well 
and  wipe  dry.  Steam  for  half  an  hour.  If  you  have  no  steamer, 
wrap  the  fowl  in  mosquito  netting  and  lay  in  a colander ; set  over 
a pot  of  boiling  water,  fit  a close  cover  on  the  colander  and  keep  the 
water  at  a hard  boil,  but  not  touching  the  chicken,  forty  minutes. 
Wipe  the  fowl,  roll  in  salted  and  peppered  flour  until  well  coated,  and 
lay  in  deep  salted  fat,  enough  to  cover  it  and  boiling  hot.  When 
well  browned,  transfer  to  a hot  dish,  garnish  with  parsley  and 
serve.  A pretty  and  delightful  dish. 


Potato  Fritters. 

One  cupful  of  mashed  potato,  beaten  light  and  smooth  with  a 
fork ; three  beaten  eggs ; half-cup  of  milk ; two  tablespoonfuls  of 
prepared  flour  ; salt  and  pepper. 

Beat  all  well  together,  and  drop  by  the  large  spoonful  in  the 
hot  fat  left  from  cooking  the  chicken,  when  you  have  strained 
and  reheated  it.  Drain  in  a split  spoon,  as  you  take  up  each  fritter. 


347 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Summer  Squash. 

Pare,  take  out  tHe  seeds,  lay  in  cold  water  for  half  an  hour ; then 
put  into  a pot  of  boiling  water,  salted,  cook  until  tender ; drain  and 
mash  smooth  with  a little  butter,  salt  and  pepper ; whip  to  a creamy 
pulp,  and  dish  hot. 

Peaches  and  Whipped  Cream. 

Peel  fine,  ripe,  freestone  peaches  just  before  dinner,  that  they 
may  not  change  color  with  standing.  Cover  the  dish  containing  them, 
and  set  on  the  ice  until  the  dessert  is  served.  As  you  help  them 
out,  pile  peaches  on  saucer,  stew  thickly  with  fruit  sugar,  and  cover 
with  whipped  cream — plenty  of  it.  Pass  sponge  cake  with  the 
peaches.  The  cream  should  be  ice  cold. 


No.  20. 

BREAKFAST. 

Wheat  Germ  Porridge.  Lobster  Croquettes. 

Bread  and  Milk  Muffins.  Fried  Cucumbers. 

Fruit.  Meringued  Coffee.  Tea. 

Wheat  Germ  Porridge. 

A receipt  for  this  cereal  will  be  found  in  No.  2,  Spring. 

Lobster  Croquettes. 

Chop  the  meat  of  a large  lobster  quite  fine,  stir  into  a cupful  of 
drawn  butter,  beat  up  an  egg  and  add  it,  with  the  juice  of  half  a 
lemon,  salt  to  taste,  half  a cup  of  cracker  dust,  and  a little  cayenne. 


34^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


(The  drawn  butter  should  be  rather  stiff.)  Set  the  paste  thus  made 
oil  ice  until  stiff  and  cold.  Take  out  a great  spoonful  at  a time, 
make  into  croquettes,  roll  iii  flour,  then  in  beaten  egg,  again  in 
pounded  cracker.  Fry  carefully  in  hot  lard,  drain  each  as  you  take 
it  up,  and  serve  on  a hot  dish. 


Bread  and  Milk  Muffins. 

Two  cups  of  flue,  dry  crumbs  ; two  heaping  tablespoonfuls  of 
prepared  flour  ; two  cups  of  boiling  milk  ; two  beaten  eggs  ; one 
cup  of  boiling  water ; half  teaspooiiful  of  salt ; one  tablespoonful 
of  butter. 

Pour  the  boiling,  salted  water  on  the  crumbs,  let  them  stand, 
covered,  for  half  an  hour ; drain  off  the  liquid  without  pressing  the 
crumbs,  and  beat  in  the  flour  ; add  the  butter  to  the  hot  milk,  and 
put  in  next ; beat  until  smooth  and  nearly  lukewarm  before  the 
eggs  go  in  ; bake  iii  muffin  rings  on  a hot  griddle.  Send  to  the 
table  hot  and  tear, — not  cut, — open. 


Fried  Cucumbers. 

Cut  off  the  skin,  slice  lengthwise  into  thick  pieces,  and  lay  in 
cold  water  half  an  hour ; wipe  dry,  dip  in  beaten  egg,  then,  in  fine 
cracker-crumbs,  seasoned  pretty  highly  with  pepper  and  salt,  and 
fry  in  hot  lard ; drain  dry  and  eat  hot.  They  are  far  more  palata- 
ble than  might  be  supposed.  Some  like  to  squeeze  a few  drops  of 
lemon  juice  on  each  slice  before  eating  it. 


M ER I NO  uED  Coffee. 

Make  hot  and  strong ; put  into  each  cup  one  or  two  lumps  of 
sugar,  and  two  tablcspooiifuls  of  scalding  milk  ; fill  up  with  coffee 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


349 


and  lay  on  the  surface  a heaping  teaspoonful  of  a meringue  made 
by  mixing  the  white  of  an  egg,  frothed  stiff,  with  a half  pint  of 
whipped  cream. 

LUNCHEON. 

Ragout  of  Sweetbreads.  Potato  Scallops. 

Lettuce  Salad  with  Plain  Dressing. 

Cousin  Melissa’s  Sponge  Cake. 

Lemonade. 

Ragout  of  Swketbrkads. 

Boil  the  sweetbreads  for  ten  minutes  ; leave  them  in  ice-cold 
water  for  half  an  hour ; wipe  dry,  cut  into  dice,  add  half  as  much 
mushroom  dice,  and  stew  in  enough  broth  to  cover  them,  for  ten 
minutes.  Season  well  with  pepper-and-salt ; put  in  half  a cupful 
of  stewed  tomatoes,  strained,  a tablespoonful  of  browned  flour  cut 
up  in  as  much  butter ; boil  up  sharply,  and  serve. 

Potato  Scallops. 

Mash  potatoes  soft  with  butter  and  milk  ; season  with  pepper 
and  salt ; whip  to  a cream,  and  fill  scallop-shells  with  the  mixture, 
mounding  it  high  and  smoothly.  Bake  quickly,  and  as  they  brown, 
wash  over  lightly  with  beaten  egg.  Eat  hot  from  the  shells. 


Cousin  Melissa’s  Sponge  Cake. 

Twelve  eggs ; four  cups  of  powdered  sugar ; four  cups  of 
Hecker’s  prepared  flour;  juice  and  grated  peel  of  two  lemons. 

Beat  whites  and  yolks  separately  and  very  light,  add  the  sugar 
to  the  yolks,  then,  lemon-juice  and  rind,  the  whites,  at  last  the 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


flour,  stirred  in  quickly.  Too  mucli  stirring  toughens  this  cake. 
Bake  in  square  or  brick-shaped  pans,  lined  with  buttered  paper. 
Be  very  careful  as  to  the  baking.  Lay  white  paper  over  the  pans 
when  the  cake  goes  into  the  oven,  for  the  door  should  not  be  opened 
in  less  than  twenty  minutes.  Turn  the  tins  then,  gently,  or  the 
batter  may  fall.  This  is  for  a large  quantity  of  sponge  cake,  but 
it  will  be  so  good  that  it  will  disappear  rapidly. 


Lemonade. 


Peel  six  lemons  ; roll  and  slice  them,  and  pack  them  in  a pitcher, 
alternately  with  sugar,  allowing  for  each  lemon  two  heaping  table- 
spoonfuls. Cover,  and  set  in  a cold  place  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes 
before  addiug  three  pints  of  water  and  a lump  of  ice.  Stir  well  aud 
long ; fill  tumblers  one-third  the  way  to  the  top  with  cracked  ice, 
and  pour  in  the  lemonade. 

DINNER. 


Salmon  Bisque.  Brown  Fricassee  of  Chicken. 

Stuffed  Tomatoes.  Green  Peas.  Mashed  Potatoes. 

Egg  Salad  with  Sardine  Mayonnaise. 
Huckleberry  Pudding.  Coffee. 


Salmon  Bisque. 

Two  full  cups  of  minced  salmon  ; two  cups  of  fine  crumbs  ; 
half  a cup  of  butter  ; two  quarts  of  boiling  water  ; pepper  and  salt ; 
a taldespoonful  of  minced  parsley ; two  raw  eggs  beaten  light. 
(You  can  use  canned  salmon,  if  you  like.) 


SUMMER  BILLS  OP  FARE. 


351 


Rub  the  warmed  butter  into  the  minced  salmon,  season,  and  put 
over  the  fire  with  the  boiling  water.  Cook  gently  half  an  hour,  stir 
in  the  crumbs  and  parsley,  simmer  five  minutes,  add  the  beaten 
eggs,  stir  well  and  pour  out.  Send  around  crackers  and  lemon  with  it. 


Brown  Fricassee  of  Chicken. 

Joint  a fowl,  and  lay  in  a dripping  pan  on  a thin  stratum  of 
chopped  salt  pork,  and  a little  minced  onion.  Pour  in  cold  water 
two  inches  deep,  cover  with  another  pan,  and  cook  slowly  until  ten- 
der ; uncover,  increase  the  heat,  turning  the  chicken  often  as  one 
side  browns.  When  all  the  pieces  are  colored,  take  them  up  and  ar- 
range on  a hot  dish.  Add  to  the  gravy  more  boiling  water,  a spoon- 
ful of  butter  rolled  in  two  of  browned  flour,  some  minced  parsle}^, 
pepper,  and  if  needed,  salt ; boil  up  and  pour  over  the  chicken. 


Stuffed  Tomatoes. 

Cut  a piece  from  the  smooth  top  of  each  fine,  ripe  tomato,  and 
take  out  the  inside.  Chop  the  pulp,  mix  with  a forcemeat  of  crumbs 
and  butter,  season  with  salt,  sugar  and  pepper.  Fill  the  hollowed 
tomatoes  with  this  mixture,  fit  on  the  tops  and  bake  from  forty  to 
forty-five  minutes,  packed  neatly  in  a bake-dish.  Fill  the  gaps  be- 
tween the  tomatoes  with  forcemeat  if  any  is  left  over  before  baking. 


Egg-Salad  with  Sardine  Mayonnaise. 

Boil  eight  eggs  hard,  and  throw  them  into  cold  water,  to  lie  there 
while  you  make  the  mayonnaise.  Do  this  in  the  manner  already 
prescribed  in  this  series,  and,  when  thick  and  smooth,  rub  four  sar- 
dines to  a pulp,  and  whip  them  in  gradually.  Cut  the  eggs  into 


352 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


quarters,  lay  on  crisp  lettuce  leaves,  and,  as  you  serve  these  out,  pour 
the  dressing  over  them.  At  this  season,  when  salad  is  more  than  a 
luxury — almost  a necessity,  if  one  would  keep  well — study  such 
agreeable  novelties  as  the  above.  It  will  be  found  delicious. 


Huckleberry  Pudding. 

Two  cups  of  milk  ; two  eggs  ; four  cups  of  flour ; half  a cup  of 
yeast,  or  half  a yeast-cake  dissolved  in  warm  water  ; two  teaspoon- 
fuls of  butter ; a scant  teaspoonful  of  soda,  and  half  as  much  salt 
sifted  three  times  with  the  flour ; a quart  of  berries. 

Whip  the  eggs,  butter  (warmed)  and  milk  together,  and  pour 
gradually  into  a hole  in  the  sifted  flour.  Mix  well,  put  in  the  yeast, 
and  set  to  rise  in  a bowl  for  four  or  five  hours,  or  until  light.  Then 
stir  in  the  berries,  dredged  thickly  with  flour,  pour  into  a greased 
mold,  and  boil  steadily  for  two  hours.  Turn  out,  and  eat  warm 
with  hard  sauce. 


No.  21 


BREAKFAST. 


Arrowroot  Porridge. 
Egg  Biscuits. 
Fruit. 


Broiled  Chickens  (deviled). 
Potatoes  a la  Parisienne. 

Tea.  Coffee. 


Arrowroot  Porridge. 

One  quart  of  milk,  the  richer,  the  better ; a large  cupful  of  cold 
water ; six  full  tablespoonfuls  of  arrowroot ; half  teaspoonful  of  salt. 

vScald  the  milk,  wet  the  arrowroot  to  a smooth  paste  with  the 
water,  gradually  ; take  the  hot  milk  from  the  fire  and  pour  it,  a few 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


353 


spoonfuls  at  a time,  slowly,  on  the  arrowroot  paste  ; salt,  and, 
returning  it  to  the  fire  (of  course  in  a farina  kettle),  stir  it  five 
minutes  after  the  water  in  the  outer  vessel  boils.  You  can  eat  it 
hot  with  sugar  and  cream,  or  pour  into  cups  to  form,  and  when  cold, 
set  on  the  ice  until  next  morning.  Turn  out,  and  eat  with  cream 
and  sugar. 


Broiled  Chickens  (deviled). 

Clean,  split  down  the  back,  and  broil  over  a clear  fire  in  the 
usual  way  until  they  are  done  and  begin  to  brown.  Lay  in  a 
dripping-pan,  and  rub  all  over  with  a sauce  made  by  whipping  light 
a tablespoonful  of  made-mustard,  a teaspoonful  of  vinegar,  and  a 
pinch  of  cayenne.  Sift  fine  crumbs  over  all,  and  set  on  the  upper 
grating  of  a hot  oven  to  brown.  Transfer  to  a hot  chafing  dish  ; 
lay  a little  of  the  sauce  on  each  leg  and  breast,  and  serve. 


Egg  Biscuits. 

One  quart  of  prepared  flour ; a tablespoonful  of  lard,  and  twice 
as  much  butter ; a teaspoonful  of  salt ; two  cups  of  milk  ; the  yolks 
of  two  eggs  beaten  light. 

Salt  the  flour,  and  sift  it  twice  in  a bowl,  rub  in  the  shortening 
thoroughly  and  lightly  ; mix  ^^olks  and  milk  together,  pour  into  a 
hole  in  the  flour,  work  into  a paste  with  as  little  handling  as  possi- 
ble ; roll  into  a sheet  half  an  inch  thick ; cut  into  round  cakes,  and 
bake  in  a floured  pan.  Eat  hot. 


Potatoes  a la  Parisienne. 

Cut  into  small,  round  marbles  with  a potato-gouge,  and  throw 
into  ice  cold  water ; leave  them  tfiere  for  half  an  hour  ; dry  them 


354 


HOUvSE  AND  HOME. 


well  between  two  clean  towels,  and  drop  into  a kettle  of  boiling 
lard,  slightly  salted  and  peppered.  Cook — not  too  fast — to  a yellow- 
brown  ; drain,  and  serve  in  a dish  lined  with  a hot  napkin. 


LUNCHEON. 

Ham  Rarebit. 

Bread,  Butter  and  Olives. 

Pink-and-White  Cake. 


Ham  Rarebit. 

One  cupful  of  minced  corned  ham  ; one  cupful  of  dry,  grated 
cheese  ; two  eggs  ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  cream  or  milk  ; cayenne 
to  taste  ; slices  of  toasted  bread,  buttered. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  mix  meat  and  cheese,  stir  the  eggs  into  the 
milk,  and  put  all  together  in  a bowl ; work  to  a batter,  spread 
thickly  on  crustless  slices  of  buttered  toast,  brown  quickly  on  the 
upper  grating  of  the  oven,  and  send  at  once  to  table. 


Corn  Fritters. 

Cut  the  com  from  the  cob,  and  mince  with  a keen  chopper^ 
bmising  as  little  as  may  be ; allow  two  eggs  to  a heaping  cupful  of 
the  minced  grains,  a half-cupful  of  milk,  a tablespoonful  of  pre- 
pared flour,  a saltspoonful  of  salt,  and  a teacupful  of  melted  butter. 
Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  the  milk,  butter,  salt,  finally  the  flour. 
Bake  on  a griddle  and  send  in  very  hot. 


Coni  Fritters. 

Radishes. 

Lemonade. 


Pink-and-White-Cake. 

Three  cups  of  prepared  flour;  two  cups  of  sugar;  whites  of  five 
eggs ; one  cup  of  butter ; one  cup  of  milk  , one  teaspoonful  of 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


355 

powdered  cochineal ; one  teaspoonful  of  rose-water,  and  the  same  of 
essence  of  bitter  almond ; cream  the  butter  and  sugar. 

Add  the  milk,  and  stir  in  alternately  the  frothed  whites  and  the 
flour,  beating  up  lightly.  Halve  the  batter,  and  mix  with  one  portion 
the  powdered  cochineal  dissolved  in  a tablespoonful  of  cold  water,  and 
a tablespoonful  of  rose  water,  then,  strain  through  double  muslin  ; to 
the  other  add  the  bitter  almond  flavoring.  Put  alternate  spoonfuls  of 
pink  and  white  batter  into  a buttered  cake-mold  and  bake  in  a 
steady  oven.  If  judiciously  mixed,  the  cake  will  be  prettily  mot- 
tled. 

DINNER. 

Baked  Soup.  Oysters  au  Gratin. 

Stewed  Pigeons.  String  Beans  au  Maitre  d ■ Hotel. 

Scallop  of  Corn  and  Tomatoes. 

Apple  Meringue.  Peaches.  Pears. 

Coffee. 


Baked  Soup. 

Two  pounds  of  lean  beef,  chopped  small ; half  a pound  of 
corned  ham,  also  minced  ; one  onion ; one  carrot ; a quarter  cab- 
bage ; a pint  of  string  beans  ; a pint  of  corn  cut  from  the  cob ; six 
large  tomatoes,  sliced  ; one  turnip  ; four  potatoes  (parboiled)  ; a 
tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley  ; one  tart  apple,  pared  and  quar- 
tered ; four  quarts  of  cold  water ; a heaping  teaspoonful  of  salt,  and 
half  as  much  pepper ; one  teaspoonful  of  sugar. 

Peel  and  cut  the  vegetables  small ; pack  them,  alternately  with 
the  meat,  in  a stone  jar ; season,  cover  with  the  water  ; fit  a top  on 
the  jar  and  cover  the  cracks  around  the  edges  with  a paste  of  flour 


35^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


and  water ; set  in  a deep  pan  of  cold  water,  put  into  the  oven  and 
cook  steadily  for  six  hours  ; as  the  water  in  the  pan  boils  down, 
replenish  from  the  boiling  tea-kettle.  A good  family  soup.  Serve 
without  straining. 

Oysters  au  Gratin, 

One  quart  of  oysters. 

One  cupful  of  thick,  drawn  butter,  in  which,  after  it  is  taken 
from  the  fire,  have  been  mixed  two  beaten  eggs  and  a teaspoonful 
of  Durkee’s  salad-dressing,  bread  crumbs,  pepper  and  salt.  Drain  the 
oysters,  lay  them  on  a soft  cloth,  and,  spreading  another  over  them, 
pat  it  to  absorb  all  the  moisture  ; on  a layer  of  these,  arranged  in  a 
bake-dish,  salted  and  peppered,  put  one  of  drawn  butter,  more 
oysters,  more  drawn  butter,  etc.,  until  the  materials  are  used  up; 
cover  with  fine  crumbs,  drop  bits  of  butter  on  top,  and  bake,  covered, 
half  an  hour,  then  brown. 


Stewed  Pigeons. 

Draw  and  wash  the  pigeons,  and  lay  them  whole  in  a broad  pot ; 
scatter  a little  minced  onion,  pepper,  salt  and  chopped  parsley  on 
them,  and  cover  barely  with  weak  broth  or  soup-stock ; cover 
closely,  and  simmer,  never  boiling  hard,  until  tender ; take  out  the 
birds  and  keep  hot,  while  you  strain  the  gravy  ; skim  off  the  fat, 
return  to  the  fire  and  boil  up  sharply ; thicken  with  browned  flour, 
put  in  a dozen  chopped  mushrooms,  cook  five  minutes,  add  a glass 
of  sherry,  and  pour  over  the  pigeons. 


String  Beans  au  Maitre  d'‘ Hotel, 

String  with  care  ; cut  into  inch  lengths  and  cook  tender  in 
plenty  of  boiling  water  slightly  salted  ; drain  dry  ; have  ready  in 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


357 


a frying-pan  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  salt,  pepper  and  a tablespoon- 
ful of  vinegar,  hot,  but  not  boiling ; stir  in  the  beans,  tossing 
lightly  with  a silver  fork,  and  serve  hot. 


Scallop  of  Corn  and  Tomatoes. 

Shave  the  corn  from  the  cob,  and  pack  in  alternate  layers  with 
tomatoes  peeled  and  sliced  in  a bake-dish ; sprinkle  each  stratum 
with  butter,  pepper,  salt,  a little  sugar  and  a few  bits  of  minced 
onion,  and,  if  you  like,  some  shreds  of  fat  salt  pork  ; cover  with 
fine  crumbs,  peppered  and  salted,  with  bits  of  butter  here  and  there  ; 
bake,  covered,  until  the  surface  is  bubbling  hot,  then  brown 
lightly. 


Apple  Meringue. 

Two  cups  of  strained  apple  sauce  ; four  eggs ; four  tablespoon- 
fuls of  sugar  for  the  sauce,  one  for  the  meringue ; one  tablespoonful 
of  butter  stirred  into  the  sauce  while  hot ; some  good  pie  crust ; 
grated  lemon-peel  for  seasoning. 

Beat  four  yolks  and  two  whites  light  with  the  sugar,  and  whip 
with  the  sauce  ; have  ready  a pie  plate  lined  with  nice  crust,  baked ; 
fill  with  the  mixture  ; spread  with  a meringue  made  of  the  remain- 
ing whites  and  sugar ; brown  lightly  and  quickly  in  a hot  oven ; 
eat  cold. 


No.  22. 

BREAKFAST. 

Farina  Gruel.  Stewed  Sheeps’  Tongues. 

Oatmeal  Bannocks.  Chopped  Potatoes. 

Fruit.  CoiBfee.  Tea. 


358 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Farina  Gruel. 


One  cup  of  farina;  one  tablespoonful  of  butter;  one  quart  of 
milk  ; lialf-teaspoonful  of  salt ; bit  of  soda  in  the  milk. 

Scald  tliree  cupfuls  of  milk  ; wet  tlie  farina  with  the  remaining 
cup  of  cold  milk,  and  stir  into  the  hot.  Cook,  stirring  often,  half 
an  hour  ; add  the  butter  and  salt,  and  cook  ten  minutes  longer. 
Beat  up  well  and  pour  out.  Eat  with,  or  without  sugar,  as  you 
like. 


Stewed  Sheeps’  Tongues. 

Soak  for  an  hour  in  cold  water  ; drain,  and  cover  with  boiling 
water  until  you  can  peel  off  the  skin.  Do  this  over  night,  and 
leave  on  ice  until  morning.  Then  split  lengthwise  into  four  pieces 
when  you  have  trimmed  them  neatly.  Put  for  each  tongue  a table- 
spoonful of  chopped  pork  into  a saucepan,  a teaspoonful  of  minced 
parsley,  half  a dozen  chopped  mushrooms,  salt  and  pepper  to  taste, 
and  the  juice  of  half  a lemon  for  the  whole  number.  Lay  the  split 
tongues  ou  this  prepared  bed,  pour  in  a cupful  of  skimmed  gravy 
or  weak  broth — cold  water,  if  you  have  neither — and  stew  gently 
until  tender.  Thicken  with  browned  flour ; boil  up  and  pour  out. 
Your  butcher  will  save  the  tongues  for  you  at  a small  cost,  if  you 
give  him  timely  notice.  A half-cup  of  stewed  and  strained  toma- 
toes is  an  improvement  to  the  stew. 

Oatmeal  Bannocks. 

Three  cups  of  oatmeal ; one  cup  of  white  flour,  prepared ; one 
pint  of  boiling  milk  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; half  a teaspoon- 
ful of  salt. 

Sift  oatmeal,  flour  and  salt  twice  together  into  a bowl,  melt  the 
butter  in  the  milk,  make  a hole  in  the  middle  of  the  meal,  etc.,  and 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


359 


pour  this  in.  Stir  into  a soft  dough  as  quickly  as  possible,  roll  into 
a sheet  one-eighth  of  an  inch  thick,  cut  into  round  cakes,  and  bake 
on  a hot  griddle.  Butter  while  hot,  and  serve.  They  are  good 
cold,  also. 

Chopped  Potatoes. 

Mince  some  fat  roast  beef  coarsely  and  put  into  a frying-pan 
with  a few  spoonfuls  of  minced  parsley.  As  it  heats  throw  in 
chopped  potatoes,  pepper  and  salt,  and  toss  until  they  begin  to 
brown.  Turn  out  upon  a hot  dish. 


Bread. 

Rissoles. 

Butter. 

LUNCHEON. 

Cucumber  Salad. 

Olives. 

Iced  Milk. 

Rusk. 

Warm  Gingerbread. 

Rissoles. 

Mince  cold  veal  or  chicken,  season  with  pepper  and  salt,  roll  out 
a good  pie  crust,  as  for  tarts,  cut  into  squares  or  oblongs,  as  for 
turn-overs,  put  a tablespoonful  of  the  seasoned  meat  in  the  center  of 
each,  brush  the  edges  with  white  of  egg,  and  make  into  a neat  roll 
enveloping  the  meat.  Pinch  the  edges  of  the  paste  firmly  together ; 
bake  in  a quick  oven.  When  brown,  wash  over  with  beaten  egg ; 
leave  in  the  oven  for  a minute  to  glaze,  and  serve  hot.  These  are 
nice  made  of  cold  calf’s  liver. 


Cucumber  Salad. 

Peel  and  slice  the  cucumbers  and  leave  in  ice-water  for  an  hour, 
drain,  slice  an  onion,  and  lay  in  a cold  dish  alternately  with  the 
cucumbers,  and  season  with  vinegar,  pepper  and  salt. 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


RUvSk. 

One  quart  of  flour;  ouc  cup  of  sugar;  half  a cup  of  butter;  half 
a yeast  cake,  dissolved  iu  warm  water  ; ouc  teaspoouful  of  salt ; two 
eggs. 

Sift  flour  and  salt  together,  pour  iu  milk  and  yeast,  and  let  it 
rise  four  or  five  hours  before  adding  the  beaten  eggs,  sugar  and  but- 
ter. Work  these  iu  well,  and  make  it  into  small  rolls  ; set  closely 
together  iu  a pan.  Throw  a cloth  over  them  and  let  them  stand 
until  light.  Bake  in  a steady  oven.  Just  before  taking  them  up, 
wash  the  top  with  white  of  egg  in  which  a little  sugar  lias  been 
stirred. 


Warm  Gingerbread. 

One  cup  of  sugar  ; one  cup  of  molasses  ; one  cup  of  butter ; one 
cup  of  “ loppered  ” milk  or  cream  ; four  and  a-half  cups  of  flour  ; 
one  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  twice  wit4i  the  flour ; one  tablespoonful 
of  ginger ; one  teaspoonful  of  mixed  mace  and  cinnamon  ; three  eggs. 

Beat  together  molasses,  sugar,  butter  and  spices  until  they  are 
very  light ; put  in  the  milk,  beaten  eggs,  and  finally,  flour.  Stir  vigor- 
ously for  five  minutes,  and  bake  in  a “ card.”  Break,  instead  of  cut- 
ting it,  and  eat  with  iced  milk  as  an  accompaniment. 


DINNER. 


Curry  Rice  Soup.  Baked  Pickerel  and  Mashed  Potatoes. 

Stewed  Chops.  Green  Peas.  String  Beans. 


Lettuce  Salad. 


Peach  Ice-cream. 


Lemon  Cake. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Curry  Rice  Soup. 


361 


One  cup  of  rice  ; one  tablespoonful  of  curry  powder  ; two  quarts 
of  soup-^tock,  mutton,  chicken  or  veal ; half  an  onion,  minced  fine  ; 
two  tablespoonfuls  of  minced  parsley  ; salt  to  taste. 

Boil  the  rice  tender  in  the  stock  when  the  latter  has  cooked 
fifteen  minutes  with  the  minced  onion  in  it ; add  the  parsley,  salt 
and  curry ; simmer  twenty  minutes,  and  turn  out.  It  should  be 
quite  thick  with  the  rice. 


Baked  Pickerel. 

Clean  a fine  pickerel  without  removing  the  head,  lay  it  in  a 
dripping  pan,  and  pour  about  it  a large  cupful  of  boiling  water,  in 
which  has  been  melted  a great  spoonful  of  butter;  cover  with 
another  pan,  and  cook  half  an  hour  ; baste  plentifully  with  the  but- 
ter-and-water,  and  cook  uncovered,  basting  often,  at  intervals  of 
fifteen  minutes  or  longer,  until  tender ; transfer  to  a hot  dish,  and 
rub  well  all  over  with  a sauce  made  b}^  beating  together  a table- 
spoonful  of  butter,  one  of  finely  minced  parsley,  and  two  tablespoon- 
fuls of  anchovy  paste.  Garnish  with  sliced  lemon,  and  send 
around  mashed  potatoes  with  it. 


Stewed  Chops. 

Broil  the  chops,  and  let  them  get  cold.  Put  into  a saucepan 
with  a tablespoonful  of  minced  onion,  and  two  of  butter;  cover 
tightly,  and  set  in  a kettle  of  cold  water.  Bring  slowly  to  the  boil. 
At  the  end  of  an  hour,  add  a cupful  of  hot  broth  (made  from  the 
trimmings  of  the  chops) , seasoned  with  pepper,  salt,  a pinch  of  cloves, 
and  chopped  parsley.  Cover  again,  set  the  saucepan  directly  on  the 
range,  and  stew  gently  until  the  chops  are  tender.  Lay  them  on  a 


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HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


liot  dish  ; strain  the  gravy,  thicken  with  browned  flour,  stir  in  a 
good  teaspooufiil  of  currant  jelly,  boil  one  minute  and  pour  over  the 
chops.  A few  mushrooms  improve  this  dish.  Tough,  ungainly 
mutton  chops  may  be  made  tender  and  palatable  by  this  process. 


String  Bkans. 

Cut  the  strings  from  both  sides  of  the  beans,  top  and  tail  them, 
and  cut  into  two-inch  lengths.  Few  cooks  perform  this  task  prop- 
erly. If  it  were  always  well  done,  beans  would  be  a favorite  dish 
with  many  who  now  “ do  not  care  for  it.  ” Put  over  the  fire  in  boil- 
ing, salted  water,  and  cook  forty  minutes  if  the  beans  are  young 
and  tender,  longer,  if  they  are  not.  Drain,  stir  a good  piece  of 
butter  through  them,  pepper  and  salt  to  taste.  Send  around  vine- 
gar with  them  for  such  as  like  it. 


Peach  Ice-Cream. 

One  quart  of  rich  cream  ; one  pint  of  milk ; two  and  a half 
cups  of  sugar ; one  quart  of  peeled  and  minced  peaches. 

Sweeten  the  cream  with  two  cups  of  sugar,  mix  with  the  milk, 
and  freeze.  When  half  frozen,  stir  in  the  peaches,  over  which  you 
have  strewed  the  remaining  half  cup  of  sugar.  Turn  the  freezer 
crank  until  the  mixture  is  firm  ; pack  in  finely  pounded  ice,  and 
rock-salt  until  you  are  ready  for  it.  Wrap  a towel  dipped  in  boiling 
water  around  the  freezer  and  turn  out. 


Lemon  Cake. 

Two  cups  of  powdered  sugar;  one  cup  of  butter;  half  cupful 
of  milk  ; four  eggs  ; three  cups  of  prepared  flour. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


363 


Rub  butter  and  sugar  together,  beat  in  the  whipped  yolks,  the 
milk,  then,  'flour,  and  frothed  whites  by  turns.  Bake  in  jelly-cake 
tins.  When  cold,  spread  between  the  cakes  this  filling : 

Whites  of  three  eggs  and  a pound  of  powdered  sugar  beaten  to 
a meringue,  then  flavored  with  the  grated  peel  of  one  lemon,  and 
the  juice  of  two.  Should  the  juice  thin  the  meringue  too  much, 
add  more  sugar.  Cover  the  top  of  the  cake  with  the  same  mixture, 
let  it  stand  three  or  four  hours  to  harden  the  frosting,  and  serve 
with  the  ice  cream. 


No.  23. 

BREAKFAST. 

Wheaten  Grits. 

Ham  fried  in  Batter.  Browned  Potatoes. 

Rice  Waffles. 

Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Ham  Fried  in  Batter. 

Cut  even  slices  of  cold  cooked  ham,  and  pepper  them  lightly. 
Make  a batter  of  a cup  of  milk,  two  eggs,  and  a scant  cup  of  pre- 
pared flour ; salt  slightly,  dip  the  ham-slices  in  it,  and  fry  them  in 
boiling  lard,  or  dripping.  Drain  off*  the  grease,  and  serve  on  a hot 
platter. 


Browned  Potatoes. 

Boil  with  the  skins  on  ; peel  quickly,  taking  care  not  to  break 
the  potatoes.  Lay  in  a pie-plate,  pour  half  a cupful  of  strained 
gravy  over  them,  coat  each  well  with  them  and  brown  on  the  upper 
grating  of  the  oven.  Serve  in  the  nie-dish. 


3^4 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Rick  Waffles. 

Two  cups  of  flour ; two  cups  of  cold  boiled  rice ; three  cups  of 
sour  or  buttermilk  ; three  eggs  ; a teaspooiiful  of  soda,  and  one  of 
salt,  sifted  twice  with  the  flour  ; a tablespooiiful  of  lard. 

Melt  the  lard,  and  beat  it  well  into  the  rice ; add  the  milk,  the 
eggs  whipped  light,  flually  the  flour.  The  batter  should  not  be 
stiff,  so  have  “ a light  hand  ” with  flour.  Bake  in  well-greased 
waffle-irons. 


LUNCHEON. 

Beef  Balls.  Corn  Cakes.  Potato  Salad. 

Bread  and  Butter.  Crackers  and  Cheese. 

Lemon  Cream  Toast.  Wilbur’s  Cocoa-theta. 

Beef  Balls. 

Chop  cold  corned  beef  evenly,  and  quite  fine ; put  into  a sauce- 
pan a cup  of  drawn-butter,  having  for  its  foundation  some  of  the 
liquor  in  which  the  meat  was  boiled,  flavored  by  stewing  a little 
chopped  onion  in  it,  then,  straining  it  out,  before  adding  a great 
spoonful  of  butter,  rolled  in  one  of  browned  flour ; while  hot,  stir 
in  two  beaten  eggs,  then  the  minced  beef.  Season  with  pepper  only, 
if  the  beef  is  well-salted  ; stir  all  over  the  fire  (there  should  be  about 
two  cupfuls  of  the  chopped  meat) , until  very  hot ; set  away  to  get 
cold  and  stiff ; make  into  round  balls  about  an  inch  and  a half  in 
diameter ; roll  in  beaten  egg,  then,  in  pounded  cracker,  and  fry  in 
Ixnling  fat.  Drain  and  dish. 

\ 

Corn  Cake. 

Shred  the  grains  of  green  corn  quite  fine  ; beat  into  them  a table- 
spoonful  of  melted  butter,  a tcaspoouful  of  sugar,  three  eggs,  a cup  of 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


365 


milk  witH  two  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour,  half  a teaspoonful  of 
salt  and  a little  pepper.  Mix  well,  and  fry  on  a griddle  as  you  would 
buckwheat  or  flannel-cakes.  Send  in  relays  to  table,  as  they  should 
be  eaten  hot. 


Potato  Salad. 

Two  cups  of  boiled  potato,  mealy  and  white,  rubbed  through  a 
colander,  and  left  to  get  cold.  Half  a cupful  of  white  cabbage, 
shredded  fine  with  a sharp  knife,  and  criss-cross  with  the  same — 
chopping  would  bruise  it.  Two  tablespoonfuls  of  cMery  shred  in 
the  same  way.  Yolks  of  two  hard  boiled  eggs,  rubbed  to  a powder  ; 
toss  all  together  with  a silver  fork,  and  pour  this  dressing  over  it : 

Yolks  of  two  eggs,  beaten  smooth  ; one  tablespoonful  of  melted 
butter ; one  teaspoonful  of  sugar,  and  the  same  of  corn-starch  ; half- 
spoonful  each,  of  salt  and  mustard,  and  a very  little  cayenne ; a 
liberal  half  cupful  of  vinegar. 

Heat  the  vinegar  and  pour  upon  the  yolks,  sugar,  butter  and 
seasoning,  well  beaten  together ; wet  the  corn-starch  with  water,  and 
stir  into  the  mixture ; cook  all,  stirring  constantly,  two  minutes,  or 
until  it  thickens,  then,  whip  with  a silver  fork  into  the  potato  salad. 
Set  aside  until  very  cold. 


Lemon  Cream  Toast. 

Rounds  of  stale  baker’s  bread,  crustless,  and  cut  with  the  top  of 
a baking-powder  box  or  a tin  cake-cutter  ; one  pint  of  milk  ; half 
a cup  of  sugar ; three  eggs  ; grated  peel  of  half  a lemon ; three 
tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour. 

Make  a thin  'batter  of  the  milk,  eggs,  sugar  and  flour,  season 
with  lemon-peel,  dip  each  round  of  bread  in  this,  coating  both  sides, 
and  fry  in  boiling  lard ; heap  on  a hot  platter,  spreading  each  piece 


3^6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


with  a sauce  made  by  whipping  a cup  of  powdered  sugar  to  a cream 
with  the  juice  of  a large  lemon  and  a tablespoonful  of  warmed  but- 
ter. Pass  cocoa-theta  with  it. 

DINNER. 

Fish  Bisque  Maigre,  Fricasseed  Rabbits. 

Potato  Croquettes.  Baked  Cauliflower. 

Peach  Pudding  Peach  Sauce. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Fish  Bisque  Maigre. 

Three  pounds  of  black  bass,  halibut  or  any  other  fine  white  fish; 
half  an  onion  ; three  stalks  of  celery ; a tablespoonful  of  chopped 
parsley  ; two  quarts  of  boiling  water ; one  cupful  of  cracker  crumbs  ; 
a cupful  of  milk  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  pepper  and  salt ; six 
Boston  crackers. 

Cut  the  fish  into  inch-square  pieces,  and  put  over  the  fire  with 
the  onion,  celery  and  boiling  water.  Cook  until  the  fish  is  tender  ; 
take  out  the  pieces  with  a skimmer ; remove  the  bones,  and  chop 
the  fish  fine.  Strain  the  liquor  left  in  the  pot,  and  return  to  the 
fire  with  the  minced  fish,  parsley  and  crumbs.  Season  judiciously ; 
stir  to  a gentle  boil ; add  the  butter,  and  lastly  the  milk,  which 
should  have  been  scalding  hot  in  another  vessel.  Simmer  one 
minute,  and  pour  upon  the  split  crackers,  these  having  been  soaked 
in  hot  milk,  salted,  peppered  and  buttered,  aad  arranged  as  a lining 
to  the  tureen.  This  soup  is  delicious. 


Fricasseed  Broilers. 

Clean  carefully  and  joint  a pair  of  broiling  chickens  ; roll  each 
piece  in  salted  flour,  and  put  in  a saucepan,  in  which  are  simmering 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  . 


367 


two  tablespoonfuls  of  clarified  dripping,  and  one  of  butter ; add  a 
teaspoonful  of  chopped  onion  and  shake  over  the  fire  until  the  meat 
is  browned  lightly ; pour  in  a cupful  of  boiling  water,  season  with 
parsley,  pepper,  salt,  and  a pinch  of  cloves  ; cover  closely,  and  cook 
slowly  until  tender.  Take  up  the  meat  and  keep  in  a hot  chafing- 
dish  ; strain  the  gravy,  thicken  with  browned  flour,  boil  up  sharply, 
add  the  juice  of  a lemon  and  a glass  of  claret ; pour  upon  the  chick- 
ens, and  let  all  stand  over  hot  water  five  minutes  before  sending  to 
table.  The  fricassee  is  improved  by  the  addition  to  the  gravy  of 
a can  of  mushrooms. 

Potato  Croquettes. 

Boil  a dozen  potatoes,  rub  them  through  a colander,  or  whip 
them  light  with  two  forks ; work  in,  while  hot,  a tablespoonful  of 
butter,  half  a cupful  of  hot  milk,  a little  salt  and  pepper ; stir  in  a 
saucepan  until  smoking  hot,  beat  in  two  eggs,  and  continue  to  beat 
until  you  have  a smooth  mass,  boiling  hot ; turn  out  on  a dish,  and 
let  it  get  cold  ; flour  your  hands,  make  the  mixture  into  croquettes 
and  roll  in  beaten  egg,  then  in  cracker-crumbes ; fry  in  plenty  of 
hot  lard.  Drain  off  the  fat  and  serve. 


Baked  Cauliflower. 

Boil  tender,  but  not  until  it  breaks  ; split  down  the  middle  with 
a sharp  knife ; lay  the  cut  sides  downward  in  a bake-dish ; ^pour 
over  and  about  it  a large  cupful  of  drawn  butter,  sift  fine  crumbs 
on  top,  and  set  it  in  the  oven  until  it  begins  to  brown.  Serve  in 
the  bake-dish.  Pass  vinegar,  or  cut  lemon  with  it. 

Peach  Pudding. 

Peel  and  stone  a dozen  fine  peaches  ; strew  thickly  with  sugar, 
and  set  in  a cold  place  for  an  hour.  Make  a batter  of  a quart  of 


368 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


milk,  two  cups  (even  ones)  of  prepared  flour,  four  eggs,  a table- 
spoonfnl  of  melted  lard,  and  half  a teaspoon fnl  of  salt,  beat  the  eggs 
light,  add  the  milk,  the  lard,  salt,  flour,  and  whip  together  for  a 
minute  ; drain  and  wipe  the  peaches  and  lay  them  in  a buttered 
pudding-dish,  pour  the  batter  over  them,  and  bake,  covered,  forty- 
five  minutes  in  a steady  oven,  then  brown  lightly. 


Peach  Sauce. 

Strain  the  liquor  drained  from  the  peaches,  and  heat  it ; sweeten 
with  six  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar ; stir  until  hot  and  clear  ; add  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter,  a glass  of  brandy  and  a pinch  of  cinnamon. 
Simmer  one  minute,  and  pour  into  a boat. 


No. 

BREAKFAST. 

English  Oatmeal  Porridge. 

Beef  Sausages.  Raised  Muffins. 

Stewed  Potatoes.  Brown  and  White  Bread. 

Tea.  Coffee.  Fruit. 


English  Oatmeal  Porridge. 

Wet  one  cup  of  oatmeal  and  a teaspoonful  of  salt  into  a paste 
with  cold  water,  and  stir  into  a quart  of  boiling  water  ; put  into  a 
farina-kettle  ; fill  the  outer  vessel  with  boiling  water,  and  set  at  one 
side  of  the  range  when  you  go  to  bed,  and  the  fire  is  low ; stir  well 
l)efore  leaving  it,  and  again  before  setting  it  over  the  fire  in  the 
morning.  Do  not  put  a spoon  in  it  again,  but  cook  for  more  than 
an  hour  before  dishing. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Beef  Sausages. 


369 


Chop  a tough  or  coarse  ‘‘  steak-piece  ” fine,  or  get  your  butcher 
to  do  it  for  you  ; season  with  a little  powdered  thyme,  salt,  pepper, 
a very  little  mustard,  a teaspoonful  of  lemon  juice,  and  a pinch  of 
grated  lemon  peel ; make  into  round,  flat  cakes,  roll  in  flour, 
and  fry  in  a little  hot  dripping  or  butter,  turning  as  they  brown. 
Drain,  and  serve  hot. 

Raised  Muffins  (without  eggs). 

Two  cups  of  milk  ; a teaspoonful  of  lard  or  butter ; three  cups 
of  flour ; half  a yeast  cake ; a teaspoonful  of  salt  sifted  with  the 
flour. 

Heat  the  milk ; stir  in  the  shortening,  and  when  blood-warm 
add  half  the  flour,  and  beat  hard  for  three  minutes  ; let  it  rise  in  a 
moderately  warm  place  all  night ; in  the  morning,  work  in  the  rest 
of  the  flour  and  the  salt ; make  into  balls  and  let  it  rise  in  greased 
mufiin-rings,  set  on  a floured  board.  When  light,  slip  a cake-turner 
under  each  and  transfer  to  a hot  griddle  well  greased.  . Turn,  when 
the  under  side  is  done.  Eat  warm,  pulling  them  open  to  butter 
them. 


LUNCHEON. 


Scalloped  Eggs. 

Fried  Sweet  Potatoes. 

Bread. 

Butter. 

Pickles. 

Cold  Meat. 

Warm  Jelly  Cake. 

Tea. 

Scalloped  Eggs. 

Six  eggs  ; one  cup  of  milk ; a tablespoonful  of  butter ; two  tea^ 
spoonfuls  of  com-starch  ; pepper  ; salt ; crumbs. 


370 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Boil  the  eggs  hard  and  throw  them  into  cold  water ; peel  off 
shells  and  skin,  when  cold,  chop  the  whites  very  fine  and  rub  the 
yolks  to  powder  ; heat  the  milk  to  boiling,  stir  in  the  butter,  cut  up 
in  the  corn-starch  ; stir  until  they  begin  to  thicken,  then,  add  the 
minced  whites  and  seasoning  ; drop  bits  of  butter  on  them,  pepper 
and  salt,  and  cover  with  a layer  of  the  powdered  yolks  ; next,  comes 
a stratum  of  the  whites  and  drawn  butter,  and  a final  crust  of  the 
crumbs,  salted,  peppered,  and  buttered.  Bake,  covered,  twenty 
minutes,  brown  slightly,  and  serve  in  a pie  dish. 


Fried  Sweet  Potatop:s. 

Peel  parboiled  sweet  potatoes  while  hot,  slice,  and  let  them  get 
cold  ; salt  and  pepper  them,  and  fry  to  a nice  brown  in  hot  dripping, 
turning  as  the  under  side  browns ; take  up  as  fast  as  they  are  done, 
and,  shaking  off  the  fat,  lay  on  a heated  dish  ; serve  hot.  A nice 
way  of  disposing  of  potatoes  left  over  from  yesterday’s  dinner.  In 
this  case,  slice  while  warm. 

Warm  Jelly  Cakes. 

Three  cups  of  prepared  flour ; three  eggs ; three-quarters  of  a 
cup  of  butter ; two  cups  of  sugar ; a generous  half-cup  of  milk ; 
one  cup  of  apple,  peach,  or  other  sweet  jelly;  cream,  butter  and 
sugar ; add  the  beaten  yolks,  the  milk,  then,  the  flour  and  whites 
alternately ; bake  in  jelly  cake  tins,  and’,  while  still  warm,  spread 
with  the  jelly,  and  serve.  Pass  tea  or  chocolate  with  it. 


DINNER. 


Beef  and  Sago  Soup. 
Liver,  a la  Jardiniere. 

Potato  Croquettes. 
Coffee. 


Cod  and  Macaroni. 
Stewed  Celery  (brown). 
Hedgehog  Pudding. 

Fruit. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


371 


Beef  and  Sago  Soup. 

Three  pounds  of  coarse  beef  minced  fine ; three  quarts  of  cold 
water ; one  tablespoonful  of  minced  onion  ; half  a cup  of  German 
sago,  soaked  for  two  hours  in  a cup  of  cold  water ; salt  and  pepper 
to  taste. 

Put  beef,  onion  and  water  on  together,  and  cook  gently  four 
hours,  and  until  the  liquid  is  reduced  to  two  quarts  ; season,  and  set 
aside  until  next  day ; skim  off  the  fat,  strain  through  a coarse 
cloth ; put  the  stock  back  over  the  fire,  and,  when  it  boils,  throw  in 
the  white  and  shell  of  an  egg  ; boil  slowly  five  minutes  ; strain  again 
without  squeezing,  return  to  the  fire  with  the  soaked  sago,  and 
simmer  fifteen  minutes. 

Cod  and  Macaroni. 

Half-pound  of  macaroni ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  grated  cheese ; 
one  cupful  of  cold  boiled  cod  (fresh),  minced  fine;  one  cupful  of 
warm  milk ; one  great  spoonful  of  butter,  cut  up  in  one  of  prepared 
flour  ; salt  and  dust  of  cayenne. 

Break  the  macaroni  into  inch  lengths,  and  boil  in  salted  water 
until  clear,  but  not  broken.  While  it  is  boiling,  heat  the  milk,  stir 
in  the  floured  butter,  pepper,  salt  and  cheese.  As  it  thickens,  add 
the  minced  fish,  lastly  the  macaroni,  drained,  and  turn  into  a deep 
dish.  Let  it  stand  in  hot  water  five  minutes  before  sending  to  table. 
Make  a separate  course  of  it. 

Liver  a la  Jardiniere, 

Wash  the  liver,  and  lay  it  whole  in  cold  salt-and-water  for  one 
hour ; lard  it  then,  diagonally,  with  strips  of  fat  salt  pork  project- 
ing on  each  side ; slice,  and  cut  into  dice  one  carrot,  half  an  onion, 
two  roots  of  oyster  plant,  and  one  turnip.  Parboil  them  for  ten 
minutes,  drain,  and  throw  into  cold  water  until  cooled ; drain  again, 


372 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


cover  the  bottom  of  a broad  pot  with  them,  and  lay  the  liver  on 
them  ; pour  in  two  cupfuls  of  cold  water,  cover  closely,  and  cook 
very  slowly — turning  the  liver  once — for  three  hours.  Take  up  the 
liver,  and  lay  it  on  a hot  platter ; then,  the  vegetables  with  a skim- 
mer, shaking  off  the  grease,  and  put  about  the  base  of  the  liver. 
Strain  the  gravy  left  in  the  pot,  thicken  with  browned  flour ; boil 
up,  season  with  lemon  juice  and  catsup,  and  pour  some  over  the 
liver,  most  of  it  into  a gravy-boat. 


Stewed  Celery  (brown). 

Scrape  the  stalks  of  a bunch  of  celery,  cut  into  inch-lengths  and 
cook  tender  in  a cup  of  soup-stock  or  gravy,  diluted  and  strained ; 
heat  a tablespoonful  of  butter  in  a frying-pan,  and  stir  into  it  a 
tablespoonful  or  so  of  browned  flour  until  you  have  a smooth  ronx. 
Drain  the  celery,  add  the  liquor  (strained)  to  that  in  the  frying-pan, 
season  with  pepper  and  salt,  boil  up,  and  pour  over  the  celery  in  a 
deep  dish. 

Potato  Croquettes. 

Two  cups  of  smoothly  mashed  potatoes  ; one  egg  beaten  light  • 
half  cup  of  milk  ; one  teaspoonful  of  butter,  pepper  and  salt. 

Beat  all  together  until  light,  stir  in  a saucepan  until  hot  and 
stiffened.  Turn  out  upon  a flat  dish  to  get  cold.  Form  it  into  cro- 
quettes, roll  in  beaten  egg,  then  in  fine  crumbs,  and  fry  in  hot 
dripping.  Drain  from  the  fat  in  a split  spoon  and  arrange  on  a hot 
platter. 

Hedgehog  Pudding. 

Two  cups  of  milk ; three  eggs  ; half  cup  of  sugar ; quarter 
pound  of  citron  ; one  cup  of  wine  ; one  glass  of  brandy  ; one  “ brick 
sponge  cake. 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


373 


Cut  the  citron  into  strips  an  inch  long,  and  perhaps  a sixteenth 
of  an  inch  thick,  and  stick  in  regular  rows  along  the  top  of  the 
cake.  Some  hours  before  dinner  pour  over  it,  as  it  lies  on  the 
platter,  or  in  a long  glass  dish,  the  wine,  then  the  brandy  ; make  a 
custard  of  the  sugar,  yolks-and-milk ; cook,  until  it  begins  to 
thicken,  and  while  lukewarm,  pour  over  the  cake  ; when  quite  cold, 
heap  a meringue,  made  by  whipping  the  whites  stiff  with  a little 
powdered  sugar,  on  the  custard,  leaving  the  bristly  back  of  the 
“ hedgehog  ” in  sight. 

No.  25. 

BREAKFAST. 

Wheaten  Grits.  Breakfast  Bacon,  Boiled  Eggs. 

Waffles.  Cold  Bread.  Fruit. 

Tea.  Coffee. 

Wheaten  Grits. 

A recipe  for  the  preparation  of  this  cereal  may  be  found  in  No.  2 
Spring. 

Breakfast  Bacon. 

Boneless  breakfast  bacon,  usually  dubbed  English  ” by  cour- 
tesy, is  for  sale  at  every  grocer’s.  It  is  an  inevitable  adjunct  of  the 
English  breakfast,  and  a valuable  appetizer.  “ Ferris’  ” is  an 
excellent  brand. 

Slice  it  smooth  and  thin,  and  fry  in  its  own  fat  until  clear  and 
“ ruffled  ” at  the  edges.  What  some  people  call  “ crisp  bacon,”  is 
overdone  and  ruined.  Drain  off  the  fat,  and  serve  dry  on  a hot 
dish. 


374 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Boiled  EgGvS. 

Wash  and  lay  in  warm — not  liot — water  until  you  are  ready  to 
put  them  on  the  breakfast-table.  Have  then  ready  in  an  egg-boiler 
or  other  vessel,  water  that  is  aci2iall)f  on  the  boil.  Change  the  eggs 
into  it,  and  instantly  extinguish  the  spirit-lamp  beneath,  or  take 
from  the  fire.  Cover  the  vessel  closely,  and  wrap  a thick  cloth 
about  it  to  keep  in  the  heat.  Leave  the  eggs  in  the  water  six  min- 
utes, then  transfer  to  cups  or  glasses.  Eggs  cooked  thus  are  of 
uniform  softness  throughout,  and  far  more  wholesome  than  when 
boiled  fast,  long  enough  to  cook  the  whites  into  indigestible  tough- 
ness, leaving  the  yolks  liquid.  Eat  from  the  shell  once,  and  you 
will  never  again  prefer  to  empty  them  into  glasses. 


Waffles. 

One  quart  of  milk  ; one  quart  of  sifted  flour,  in  which  is  mixed 
one  even  teaspoonful  of  fine  salt ; three  tablespoon fuls  of  melted 
butter  ; half  a yeast-cake  dissolved  in  warm  water ; two  eggs  ; one 
teaspoonful  of  sugar. 

Sift  flour,  salt  and  sugar  into  a bowl,  make  a hole  in  the  middle, 
and  pour  in  the  milk  and  butter.  Work  down  the  flour  from  the 
sides  until  all  is  smoothly  mixed  in,  then  add  the  yeast  beaten  in 
thoroughly.  Set  to  rise  over  night ; early  in  the  morning  put  in 
the  beaten  eggs,  whip  hard,  and  let  the  batter  rise  half  an  hour 
"longer,  before  baking  it  in  well-greased  waffle-irons. 


LUNCHEON. 

Beef  Loaf.  Sardines  on  Toast. 

Cold  Bread.  Crackers.  Cheese. 

Cocoanut  Cake.  Tea. 


. SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


375 


Beep'  Loaf. 


Chop  very  fine,  or  have  your  butcher  mince  two  pounds  of 
coarse  lean  beef.  Season  spicily  with  pepper,  salt,  nutmeg,  sum- 
mer savory,  or  sweet  marjoram,  and  a cautious  sprinkling  of  minced 
onion.  Beat  two  eggs  light  and  beat  up  with  the  mass.  Press 
hard  into  a bowl ; fit  a saucer  or  plate  (inverted)  upon  the  meat  and 
set  in  a dripping-pan  of  boiling  water  to  cook  slowly  for  an  hour 
and  a quarter.  Lay  a weight  on  the  surface  when  it  is  done,  and 
let  it  get  perfectly  cold  before  turning  out.  Cut  in  perpendicular 
slices. 


Sardines  on  Toast. 


Take  the  sardines  from  the  box,  lay  on  soft  paper  to  absorb  the 
fat,  pressing  another  sheet  of  paper  on  them.  Have  triangles  of 
delicately  browned  and  buttered  toast  on  a dish  ; lay  a sardine  on 
each,  and  garnish  with  sliced  lemon. 


CocoANUT  Cake. 


Two  cups  of  prepared  flour;  one  heaping  cup  of  powdered 
sugar ; half  a cup  of  butter  ; half  a cup  of  milk ; three  eggs  ; 
one  grated  cocoanut,  mixed  with  a cupful  of  powdered  sugar,  and 
left  to  stand  two  hours. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream ; stir  in  the  beaten  yolks, 
the  milk,  then  the  frothed  whites  and  the  flour.  Bake  in  jelly  cake 
tins ; spread  the  cocoanut  and  sugar  between  the  layers  and  on  top. 


Lobster  Chowder. 
Stewed  Tomato. 
Fruit. 


DINNER. 

Braised  Veal.  Potato  Hillocks. 


Indian  Meal  Pudding. 


Coffee. 


376  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

Lobstp:r  Chowdrr. 

Meat  of  one  fine  lobster,  pieked  out  from  the  shell,  and  ent  into 
bits ; one  quart  of  milk  ; six  Boston  erackers,  split  and  buttered ; 
one  even  teaspoon ful  of  salt ; one  seant  quarter-teaspoonful  of 
eayenne  ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  prepared 
flour ; a pineli  of  soda  in  the  milk. 

Scald  the  milk,  and  stir  in  seasoning,  butter  and  flour ; cook 
one  minute  ; add  the  lobster,  and  simmer  five  minutes.  Line  a 
tureen  with  the  toasted  and  buttered  crackers,  dipping  each  quickly 
in  boiling  water  before  putting  it  in  place,  and  pour  in  the  chowder. 
Send  around  sliced  lemon  with  it. 


Braised  Veal. 

Chop  a half-pound  of  fat  salt  pork  fine,  and  put  half  of  it  in 
the  bottom  of  a broad  pot ; sprinkle  it  with  minced  onion,  sweet 
herbs,  and  a teaspoonful  of  chopped  carrot.  Lay  a breast  of  veal 
on  this  bed,  and  cover  it  with  a similar  layer.  Pour  in  carefully  a 
quart  of  weak  broth,  if  you  have  it.  If  not,  cold  water ; season 
with  pepper  and  salt.  Fit  a tight  lid  on  the  top  and  set  it  where  it 
cook  slowly — very  slowly — for  two  hours  at  least.  Now  take  up 
the  meat,  rub  butter  all  over  it,  and  dredge  thickly  with  browned 
flour.  Put  it  into  a dripping-pan,  strain  the  gravy  from  the  pot  into 
this,  not  pouring  it  on  the  meat,  and  bake  half  an  hour  in  a good' 
oven,  basting  every  five  minutes  with  the  gravy.  Transfer  the  veal 
to  a hot  dish,  thicken  the  gravy  in  the  pan  with  browned  flour  wet 
with  cold  water ; boil  up,  and  serve  in  a boat. 


Potato  Hillocks. 

Whip  boiled  potatoes  light  with  a little  butter  and  milk,  and 
season  with  salt  and  pepper.  Beat  in  a raw  egg  to  bind  the  mix- 


SUMMER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


377 


tiire,  shape  into  small  conical  heaps  ; set  in  a greased  pan,  and  as 
they  brown,  glaze  with  the  butter.  The  oven  must  be  very  hot. 
Slip  a cake  turner  under  each  hillock,  and  transfer  to  a hot  platter. 


Stkwed  Tomato. 

One  dozen  ripe  tomatoes  ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter ; one  table- 
spoonful of  sugar  ; salt  and  pepper  to  taste. 

Pour  boiling  water  over  the  tomatoes  to  loosen  the  skins.  Peel, 
cut  into  quarters,  and  stew  for  twenty  minutes.  Add  butter,  sugar, 
salt  and  pepper,  and  leave  them  on  the  fire  for  twenty  minutes 
longer.  Turn  into  a deep  vegetable  dish. 


Indian  Meal  Pudding. 

One  cup  of  yellow  Indian  meal ; one  quart  and  a cupful  of  milk ; 
three  eggs  ; half  a cup  of  molasses  ; one  generous  tablespoonful  of 
butter ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  pint  of  boiling  water ; half 
teaspoonful  each,  of  cinnamon  and  mace. 

Scald  the  salted  meal  with  the  water.  Heat  the  milk  in  a farina 
kettle ; stir  in  the  scalded  meal  and  boil,  stirring  often,  for  half  an 
hour.  Beat  the  eggs  light,  put  in  the  butter-and-molasses  stirred 
together  until  they  are  several  shades  lighter  than  at  first,  add  the 
spice,  lastly,  the  batter  from  the  farina  kettle,  beaten  in,  a little  at 
a time,  until  all  the  ingredients  are  thoroughly  incorporated. 
Grease  a pudding-dish,  pour  in  the  mixture  and  bake,  covered,  in  a 
steady  oven  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  Remove  the  lid  and  brown. 
This  is  the  genuine,  old-fashioned  New  England  “ Indian  ” pud- 
ding. Eat  with  sauce,  or  with  cream  and  sugar.  It  is  very  nice. 


The  Plague  of  Flies. 

IT  became  apparent  by  the  time  the  last  month  of  our  nominal 
American  spring  was  half-gone,  that  the  year  of  which  I write 
was  to  be  cursed  by  a full  “ fly  season.”  One  week  of  unsea- 
sonably warm  weather  brought  the  buzzing  horde  out  in  force 
from  the  mysterious  corners  into  which  the  dear  old  clean-ont-of- 
fashion-and-out-of-mind  “ Cobwebs  to  catch  files  ” used  to  tell  us,  the 
harmless  little  fly  “ crept  to  sleep  all  winter.”  In  our  home,  we  burn 
the  contents  of  our  dust-pans,  and,  as  winter  shows  signs  of  abdicating 
in  favor  of  beauteous  spring,  we  redouble  onr  zeal  in  sweeping  rooms 
and  suspicious  examination  of  carpet  edges.  Rugs  are  shaken  harder 
and  oftener,  closets  inspected,  and  their  contents  sifted  rigorously. 
The  dogma  that  with  the  fluff  collected  by  the  broom  go  into  the 
fire  the  eggs  of  house-flies,  the  larvse  of  moths,  etc.,  is  held  in 
cheerful  sincerity  of  belief.  Not  that  we — or  any  of  our  acquaint- 
ances— ever  saw  a house-fly  egg  {genus  Musca),  But,  reasoning 
from  analogy,  we  assume  that  this  is  the  Muscan  method  of  repro- 
duction illimitable,  of  maddening  multiplication. 

In  this  fateful  year,  Tyndalhs  fascinating  treatise  on  “ Dust  and 
Disease  ” had  been  read  in  our  home  circle,  and,  as  a consequence, 
a mild  craze  on  the  subject  of  bacteria  and  infusoria  possessed  most 
of  us.  Spontaneous  generation  was  demonstrated  by  our  author  to 
be  an  exploded  myth. 


THE  PLAGUE  OF  FLIES. 


379 


Upon  housewifely  fidelity  depended  the  health  and  comfort  of 
the  family.  Where  no  dust  was,  disease-germs  were  ml.  When 
our  round  of  exploration  was  ended,  we  hugged  ourselves  in  the 
conviction  that  not  a loophole  remained  unguarded. 

The  hot  spell  in  May  awoke  us  rudely  from  our  dream  of  secu- 
rity. If  frogs  had  hopped  into  our  kneading-troughs,  or  hailstones 
and  fire  that  ran  along  the  ground  swept  our  thoroughfares,  we 
could  hardly  have  been  more  confounded  than  by  ocular  proof  that 
Musca  ova  by  the  tens  of  thousands  had  lain  untouched  by  broom  or 
duster  in  more-than-ever  mysterious  “ corners,”  and  had  awakened 
at  the  call  of  the  south-wind  along  with  violets,  tulips  and  spring 
bonnets.  Disdainful  of  larvae  and  polywog  precedent,  each  of  the 
myriads,  for  all  we  could  see  to  the  contrary,  was  hatched  full 
grown,  with  more  than  the  regular  number  of  legs,  and  a “ staying 
power  ” of  voracity  that  would  have  done  credit  to  a condor. 

They  descended  and  ascended  upon  us,  terrible  as  an  army 
with  banners  and  bagpipes.  Their  hum  above  our  tables,  their 
titillating  touch  upon  our  noses  and  lips  in  what  we  could  not  call 
^‘sleeping-rooms”  after  daylight — were  tease  and  torment ; the  foray 
of  legions  in  the  kitchen  was  disgust  and  desperation. 

Flies  and  dirt- — seen  or  unseen — are  too  closely  joined  together 
in  the  housekeeper’s  mind  to  be  put  asunder  while  reason  endures. 
The  domestic  brigade  sprang  to  arms.  Fly-doors  were  hung  in  all 
the  portals  that  opened  into  the  outer  world  ; wire-screens  fitted 
into  every  window  ; rooms  that  always  have  been  clean,  were  sub- 
jected to  such  scouring  and  brushing  and  burnishing  as  raised  them 
above  hypercritical  suspicion  ; cool  dusks  reigned  throughout  the 
house  while  the  sun  was  above  the  horizon.  Each  morning,  the 
brigade,  armed  with  palm-leaf  fans  and  damp  towels,  charged  upon 
the  winged  battalions,  beat  out  all  that  could  be  expelled  from  the 
fort,  then  massacred  the  stragglers.  Each  day,  forgetful  of  past 


380 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


disappointment,  we  panted  that  at  last  victory  had  perched  upon 
onr  dusters.  In  half  an  hour,  into  library,  sewing-room,  most  of 
all,  kitchen  and  dining-room,  stole  the  shrill  droning  of  a hundred 
tiny  bagpipes,  the  slogan  of  a reconstructed  host.  We  had  met  the 
enemy  and  were,  as  usual,  theirs. 

The  balloon-shaped  fly-trap,  made  of  wire  netting,  set  above  a 
saucer  containing  a seductive  mixture  of  treacle  and  pepper,  slew 
its  thousands.  We  gave  them  the  benefit  of  no  probability  of  actual 
decease,  but  cremated  the  mass,  animate  and  inanimate,  “ in  one 
red  burial  blent  ” in  the  kitchen  grate.  Drowned  flies,  buried  flies, 
flies  that  have  been  stunned  and  crushed,  come  to  life.  The  tena- 
city with  which  they  hold  to  a vampire-like  existence  is  as  mirac- 
ulous as  their  incubation  in  “ corners  ” nobody  ever  finds.  They 
are  never  fairly  dead  except  in  the  shape  of  coal-ashes. 

The  clock-work  fly-trap  revolved  by  day  and  by  night,  and  slew 
its  ten  thousands,  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  number  consumed  must 
make  an  appreciative  difference  in  the  quantity  of  fuel  used  per 
dieri. 

And  still  the  buzz  and  tickling  and  swarming  went  on.  We 
inhaled  no  air  save  such  as  was  strained  through  reticulated  wire, 
but  the  mustering  of  the  Musca  myriad  was  as  if  the  filtered  ele- 
ment had  taken  visible  and  auricular  life.  The  plague  was  phenom- 
enal. Where  did  they  come  from  ? What  did  their  appearance 
and  sojourn  portend?  We  were  ashamed  with  a humiliation  every 
properly-trained  housewife  will  comprehend.  But  for  the  danger  to 
surrounding  buildings,  it  is  possible  that  we  might  have  lent  obe- 
dient heed  to  the  proposition  of  the  chief  of  our  clan,  and  burned 
down  the  house  to  get  rid  of  the  flies. 

To  us,  in  extremity,  drifted  a newspaper-scrap  which  was  neither 
official  nor  judicial.  vSoniebody  picked  it  up  somewhere.  A drown- 
ing man  would  have  caught  at  it,  as  we  did,  had  it  bobbed  at  him 


THE  PLAGUE  OF  PLIES. 


381 

from  tlie  crest  of  the  wave.  It  was  not  quite  explicit  in  the  direc- 
tions  it  conveyed,  but  we  got  at  the  meaning  of  the  extract  and  put 
it  into  practice  as  follows : We  had  Persian  insect  powder  in  the 
house,  also  the  implement,  in  shape  like  a big  hunting-watch,,  with 
a small  pipe  let  into  one  side,  with  which  we  had  projected  the  yel- 
low dust  into  corners  where  might  lurk  the  eggs  or  pupae  of  moths. 
This  we  charged  to  the  nozzle.  That  night,  the  kitchen  and 
dining-room  were  cleared  of  such  small  articles  as  would  have  to  be 
washed  if  the  powder  fell  on  them  ; windows  and  doors  were  made 
fast,  and  an  operator,  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  worked 
the  spring-top  of  the  round  case  that  expelled  the  powder,  throwing 
it  upward  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  toward  every  corner 
and  side  of  the  apartment.  We  used  a boxful  in  each  room,  then 
half  as  much  on  each  succeeding  occasion.  The  rooms  were  not 
entered  again  until  morning. 

Cook  declared  that  she  swept  up  “ a full  pint  of  the  little  bastes.” 
The  waitress  did  not  measure  her  trophies,  but  reported  that  floor 
and  furniture  were  strewed  with  bodies.  It  was  a miniature  edition 
of  the  destruction  of  Sennacherib  by  an  unseen  agent.  To  make 
sure  that  our  foes  were  like  his  army,  all  dead  corpses,  we  con- 
signed them  without  delay  to  the  crematory. 

This  was  done  on  Saturday  night ; an  ineffable  peace  reigned 
over  our  Sunday  breakfast. 

“ It  is  too  good  to  be  true ! ” said  one.  “ I am  reverently  thank- 
ful. I have  felt  for  weeks  as  if  the  shadow  of  Moses^  rod  rested  on 
our  house.” 

Another : — The  marvel  is  that  Pharoah  hardened  his  heart 
again.  I have  less  respect  for  his  common  sense  than  ever  before.” 

Still  another : — “ Our  text  runs  in  my  mind  continually  :■ — 
‘ They  did  take  their  food  with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart.’  ” 


382 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Toward  evening,  the  vanquished  leaders  sent  in  scouts,  few  in 
number,  and  wary,  to  reconnoiter  the  battlefield.  A repetition  of 
the  experiment  of  the  preceding  evening  left  not  one  to  carry  the 
tale. 

If  I have  told  it  lightly,  it  is  not  because  the  infliction  was  not 
grievous,  and  the  deliverance  welcome  beyond  expression.  Since 
then,  we  have  held  our  own  successfully  in  the  height  of  “ fly- 
time.” In  very  hot  weather  the  powder  is  used  every  night  for  a 
week  or  two  at  a time  ; in  ordinary  circumstances,  and  by  observing 
common  precaution  in  the  matter  of  screen-doors  and  darkened 
rooms,  twice  or  three  times  a week  suffice  to  keep  the  premises 
clear.  While  the  remedy  leaves  no  trace  of  its  recent  presence  to 
sight  or  smell,  after  the  floor  is  swept  and'  the  furniture  dusted,  we 
have  not  thought  it  prudent  to  use  it  in  bed-chambers.  But  we 
have  learned  that  kitchen  and  dining-room  are  the  enemy’s  head* 
quarters,  and  that  heroic  measures  here  cut  off  supplies  from  the 
upper  part  of  the  house. 

I shall  esteem  myself  happy  if  this  humble  sketch  may  be  the 
means  of  extending  the  knowledge  of  a device  so  simple,  yet  so 
efficacious,  in  abating  one  of  the  most  annoying  of  minor  nuisances 
of  daily  life  in  summer  weather. 


The  Dinner-Pail. 

T ¥ jHILE  sitting  on  the  piazza  of  a house  in  a New  England 
11/  town  two  or  three  3^ears  ago,  a mirthful  caprice  moved 
me  to  count  what  the  young  people  about  me  named 
the  “ pail-brigade.”  A few  minutes  after  six  o’clock, 
the  pleasant  street  was  the  thoroughfare  to  the  upper  suburbs  for 
many  of  the  operatives  in  a large  down-town  factory.  Out  of  150 
of  these,  140  carried  dinner-pails,  7,  baskets,  and  3 were  empty- 
handed.'  The  question  was  then  suggested  and  discussed  as 
to  the  superior  convenience  of  the  close,  airless  pail  over  the  basket 
for  conveyance  of  a cold  lunch. 

What  is  known  as  the  “ picnic  basket  ” is  heavy  and  costly. 
Otherwise,  the  neat  service  of  plate  and  china  stowed  away  in 
sockets  made  fast  to  the  sides  and  top,  would  soon  drive  the 
unsightly  tin  vessel  from  the  field.  A stout  willow  basket  of  con- 
venient size,  with  straight  sides  and  a well-fitted  cover,  can  be  made 
as  -commodious  by  the  exercise  of  a little  feminine  ingenuity.  Let 
inch-wide  strips  of  linen,  doubled  and  stiched  at  the  edges,  be 
tacked  in  loops  on  the  inside,  with  white  flax  thread  that  will 
be  scarcely  visible  on  the  exterior.  In  these  keep  knives,  forks, 
spoons,  pepper  and  salt  cruets,  and  napkins.  Lay  a folded  napkin 
in  the  bottom,  another  over  all,  when  the  provisions  are  packed  in 
the  interior ; tie  the  top  in  place  with  a bright  ribbon  or  braid,  and 


3^4 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


you  have  what,  while  it  is  really  a pannier  (from  the  Latin  panis — 
bread),  might  be  a j^retty  hamper  of  fruit  and  flowers,  such  as  an 
opulent  householder  would  be  willing  to  carry  to  a neighbor.  Dr. 
Holland’s  celebrated  essay  on  The  Liltle  Tui  Pail^  may  do  much 
to  modify  the  essential  commonness  of  the  utensil  to  those  who 
have  read  it.  But  it  is  not  false  pride  that  makes  a man  unwilling 
to  proclaim  to  the  street-car  and  sidewalk  public  : “ I am  taking  my 
dinner  with  me  to  my  shop  or  factory.”  The  editor  does  not  care  to 
wear  his  pen  behind  his  ear  abroad,  nor  the  clergyman  his  gown  and 
bands.  Good  taste  avoids  the  “ shoppy  ” flavor  in  places  of  general 
resort. 

The  actual  drawbacks  of  the  “ little  tin  pail  ” outweigh  the 
aesthetic  objections.  Fresh  bread  becomes  sodden,  pastry  heavy, 
and  the  most  strongly  flavored  edible  wins  the  day  to  the  extent  of 
steeping  all  the  contents  of  the  vessel  in  its  own  odor  by  dinner- 
time. To  this  are  snperadded  the  smell  and  taste  of  the  nnventi- 
lated  chamber,  large  or  small,  in  which  provisions  are  kept. 

Before  offering  recipes  for  some  of  the  scores  of  dainty  lunches, 
neither  expensive  nor  difficult  of  preparation,  with  which  the 
monotony  of  the  mid-day  meal  may  be  varied,  let  me  enter  a plea 
for  the  stomach  of  a tired  man  whose  appetite  has  been  dulled  by 
mechanical,  in-door  toil.  He  needs  a more  cunning  caterer  than 
does  he  whom  fresh  air  and  the  fragrance  of  growing  things 
provide  with  sauce  for  his  daily  saleratns  biscuit  and  fat  salt 
pork. 

You  cannot  tempt  the  artisan  with  the  revelation  of  hot  roast, 
fricassees,  and  warm  vegetables,  as  he  opens  pail  or  hamper,  but 
neither  need  you  give  him  every  day  slices  of  cold  meat,  packed 
between  bread  and  butter  “ hunks,”  with  pickles  and  pie  as  after- 
courses. Keep  on  hand  tissue-paper  in  which  to  wrap  his  sand- 
wiches ; save  up  candy  and  Christmas-boxes  for  cake ; buy  fanciful 


THE  DINNER-PAIL. 


385 


(and  cheap)  flasks  and  cruets  for  condiments.  See  that  he  has  a 
clean  napkin  daily — not  a cere-cloth  in  which  the  dead  smell  of 
yesterday’s  lunch  is  enfolded.  In  hot  weather,  tell  him  to  buy 
ice  at  noon  for  the  bottle  of  sugared  tea  or  cafe  an  lait  you  have 
put  in  cold,  lest  the  warmth  should  melt  butter  and  soften  meat. 

The  sandwich  family  is  most  useful  and  popular  when  the 
business  of  the  hour  is  the  preparation  of  a portable  lunch.  The 
general  directions  for  sandwich  manufacture  are  the  same  in  all 
cases.  Butter  the  end  of  the  loaf  smoothly,  slice  thin  with  a keen 
knife,  and  pare  off  the  crust.  Cut  in  triangles,  or  in  long,  narrow 
strips,  or  give  the  full  size  of  the  loaf-slice,  as  you  like.  Lay  the 
filling  thickly  on  the  buttered  side  of  one  piece,  and  press  the  fel- 
low, buttered  side  inward,  gently  upon  it.  Make  all  into  uni- 
form shape  and  dimensions,  that  you  may  pile  them  into  a neat  parcel. 

Ham  Sandwiches. 

Chop  the  meat,  lean  and  fat,  fine ; season  with  pepper,  and  if 
agreeable,  a very  little  mustard.  The  yolks  of  two  or  three  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  minced  and  worked  in  with  the  meat,  make  a pleasant 
change. 

Cheese  and  Egg  Sandwiches. 

Grate  the  cheese,  and  to  each  cupful  add  the  yolks  of  three 
hard-boiled  eggs,  minced  fine ; rub  to  a paste  with  a teaspoonful  of 
butter,  season  to  taste  with  salt  and  pepper,  and  spread  between 
buttered  bread  or  crackers.  These  are  nice  made  of  graham  bread. 

Sardine  Sandwiches. 

Wash  the  oil’  from  a dozen  sardines,  wipe  them  dry,  take  out 
the  back-bones,  and  scrape  with  a knife  and  fork  to  a paste ; season 
with  pepper  and  lemon-juice,  and  lay  between  buttered  slices  of  bread, 


386 


HOUSE  AND  HOMIv. 


Bacon  and  Mutton  Sandwichks. 

Fry  slices  of  breakfast-bacon  in  their  own  fat,  and  let  them  get 
cold  ; slice  cold  nintton,  lamb  or  veal  thin,  pepper  liglitly,  and  lay 
on  a buttered  slice  of  bread ; on  the  meat  one  or  two  bits  of  bacon, 
and  cover  with  the  fellow-slice  of  l)read  and  butter.  Proceed  thus 
until  all  the  materials  are  used  up. 


Cracker  and  Anchovy  SandwichKvS. 

These  are’ rather  an  “appetizer,”  than  substantial  food.  Toast 
split  Boston  crackers  or  whole  “ snow-flakes  ” lightly  ; butter  while 
hot,  and  when  cool,  spread  with  anchovy  paste.  Put  together  of 
course,  with  the  butter  and  paste  inside. 


Deviled  Eggs. 

Boil  six  eggs  hard  and  throw  them  into  cold  water.  Divide  into 
halves  cut  crosswise,  taxe  out  the  yolks  and  rub  to  a paste  with  a 
generous  teaspoonful  of  butter.  Season  with  pepper,  salt  and  a 
suspicion  of  mustard. 

Mold  into  balls  the  size  and  shape  of  the  abstracted  yolks,  put 
back  into  the  hollowed  whites,  fit  the  halves  neatly  together  and 
roll  each  egg  np  in  tissue  paper,  as  you  would  a bon-bon,  twisting 
the  paper  at  the  ends.  If  you  wish  to  make  the  entree  ornamental, 
fringe  the  squares  of  paper  before  enveloping  the  eggs.  They  are 
yet  more  savory  if  you  have  some  minced  giblets  (boiled  and  cold) 
to  mix  with  the  yolks,  and  a little  gravy  with  which  to  moisten  the 
paste. 

Chicken  Salad. 

A can  of  boned  chicken  will  make  enough  for  two  days.  Mince 
coarsely,  season  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  pack  into  a small  bowl 


THE  DINNER-PAIL. 


3S7 


or  cup.  In  another,  put  some  crisp  lettuce-leaves  with  a small 
lump  of  ice,  tie  a piece  of  cloth  over  the  top,  paper  over  this,  and 
set  securely  in  the  bottom  of  the  basket.  Pour  a few  spoonfuls  of 
Durkee’s  incomparable  salad-dressing  into  a wide-mouthed  phial, 
and  cork  it.  With  this,  send  thin  slices  of  buttered  bread,  and 
instruct  your  John  to  drain  the  lettuce  at  lunch-time,  and  after 
lining  the  bowl  with  the  leaves,  to  put  the  chicken  on  them,  and 
pour  the  dressing  upon  the  chicken. 


Galantine. 

A recipe  for  this  was  given  in  No.  5 Spring.  It  is  spicily 
tempting  to  a hungry  man,  easily  made,  and  keeps  well. 


Fruit. 

Instead  of  the  blunt  triangle  of  leathery  pie  which  will  emerge 
from  nineteen  out  of  twenty  dinner  pails  opened  by  his  comrades, 
provide  John  with  fresh  fruit  in  its  season. 

Oranges,  bananas  and  grapes  cost  no  more  than  pie  ; apples, 
berries,  and,  in  summer,  peaches,  less,  when  the  original  priee  is 
counted.  If  we  estimate  the  ruin  wrought  upon  digestion  by  pastry 
and  doughnuts,  we  are  ready  to  affirm  that  he  could  better  afford 
hot-house  fruits  at  their  dearest,  than  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of 
nature  with  these  home-made  “ delicacies.” 


Bread. 

Do  not  butter  bread  or  biscuits  while  hot,  for  John’s  luncheon, 
or  put  then  in  his  pail  or  (basket)  until  they  are  quite  cold. 
Always  give  him  crackers  and  cheese  to  aid  digestion  and  top-off  ” 
the  repast. 


388 


housp:  and  ikamh. 


PiCKLKD  Oysters, 

in  their  season,  are  not  an  expensive  article  of  diet.  A quart  at 
forty  cents,  put  iip  by  yourself  in  ten  minutes’  time,  at  a cost  of 
perhaps  five  cents  for  vinegar  and  spices,  will  make  a couple  of 
delightful  lunches,  with  what  the  French  call  “ bread  at  discretion,” 
and  for  dessert,  a couple  of  baked  apples,  with  or  without  sugar  and 
cream. 


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Autumn  Bills  of  Fare. 

No.  26. 


BREAKFAST. 

Wheaten  Grits. 

Mutton  Chops  and  Mashed  Potatoes.  Egg-Gems. 
Cold  Bread.  Toast. 

Oranges.  Coffee.  Chocolate. 


Mutton  Chops. 

If  your  butcher  has  not  trimmed  the  chops  into  shape,  removing 
the  skin  and  most  of  the  fat,  do  it  yourself ; then  flatten  them  with 
the  broad  side  of  a hatchet.  Broil  quickly  and  carefully  over  a 
Clear  fire,  lifting  the  gridiron  when  there  is  danger  of  burning. 
Have  ready  the  block-tin  platter  of  a chafing-dish,  heaped  in  the 
middle  with  mashed  potatoes,  which  have  been  worked  light  with 
butter  and  milk.  About  this  mound  arrange  the  chops,  the  large 
ends  downward,  the  small  ones  inclining  toward  the  summit  of  the 
hillock.  Pass  currant-jelly  with  them. 


389 


390  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

Egg-Gems. 

Four  eggs  ; four  cups  of  prepared  flour ; two  cups  of  milk  ; one 
tablespoonful  of  butter  chopped  into  the  flour;  one  teaspoonful  of 
salt  sifted  with  the  flour.  Whip  the  yolks  thick  and  smooth,  add 
the  milk,  the  whites,  finally  the  flour,  stirred  in  quickly  and  hard ; 
half  fill  heated  gem-pans  with  the  batter,  and  bake  in  a quick  oven. 
Send  to  table  as  soon  as  they  are  done. 


LUNCHEON. 

Stewed  Lobster. 

Toasted  Crackers.  Saratoga  Potatoes. 

Bread  and  Butter.  Apple  Pyramid. 

Light  Cakes. 


Stewed  Lobster. 

One  can  of  lobster ; one  cup  of  good  broth,  cleared  of  fat,  and 
strained  through  a cloth  ; half  a cup  of  milk  ; juice  of  a lemon  ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  flour ; cayenne  pepper  and 
salt. 

Open  the  can  early  in  the  day,  emptying  the  contents  into 
a bowl,  and  setting  this  in  a cold  place.  Cut  the  meat  into  clean 
dice,  heat  the  broth,  seasoned  in  a saucepan,  and,  as  it  boils,  lay  in 
the  lobster ; cook  ten  minutes  gently,  add  the  lemon,  and  cover  at 
the  side  of  the  range  for  five  minutes.  Have  the  milk  hot  in  a 
farina-kettle,  stir  it  into  the  floured  butter,  and  cook  three  minutes. 
Pour  the  lobster  into  a deep  dish,  then,  carefully,  mixing  in  well, 
the  scalding  thickened  milk,  and  serve. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


391 


Toasted  Crackers. 

Toast  split  Boston,  or  whole  snowflake  crackers  quickly  and 
lightly  on  both  sides,  butter  while  hot  and  pass  with  the  lobster. 
Also,  lemon  cut  into  eighths. 

Saratoga  Potatoes. 

If  you  have  not  time  to  fry  these  yourself,  buy  them  fresh  from 
your  grocer.  ' When  good,  they  are  really  nice.  When  bad,  few 
things  more  detestable  find  their  way  to  the  tables  of  civilized  peo- 
ple. Heat  them  quickly  in  the  oven  and  take  them  out  before  they 
are  brown.  Send  to  table  in  a deep  dish  lined  with  a hot  napkin. 


Apple  Pyramid. 

Pare,  halve  and  core  a dozen  fine  tart  apples,  dropping  into  cold 
water  as  you  pare  them.  Have  ready  in  a saucepan  two  tablespoon- 
fuls of  melted  butter,  a cupful  of  granulated  sugar,  the  strained 
juice  of  two  lemons  and  a blade  of  mace.  Lay  the  apples  in  this, 
coating  each  piece  with  the  mixture.  Cover  closely  and  set  in  a 
vessel  of  hot  water,  which  bring  to  a slow  boil.  Leave  the  apples 
on  until  they  are  tender  and  clear ; take  out  with  care  not  to  break 
them  ; pile  them  in  the  form  of  a cone  on  a stone  china  dish  ; cover 
with  a meringue  made  by  frothing  the  whites  of  four  eggs,  with  four 
tablespoonfuls  of  sugar ; pour  the  syrup  around  the  base  and  se^  m 
the  oven  to  color  lightly.  Eat  cold  with  light  cakes. 


DINNER. 

Turnip  Puree. 

Boiled  Corned  Beef. 

Creamed  Onions.  Tomatoes  and  Corn. 

Batter  Pudding.  Cream  Sauce. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 


392 


HOUSE  AND  IIOIMK. 

Turnip  Purkk. 

When  the  corned  beef  is  half  done  dip  out  a cpiart  of  tlic  liquor, 
cool  and  skim,  and  strain  it  through  a thick  cloth.  vSet  it  over  the 
fire  with  a dozen  turnips  (white),  pared  and  sliced  ; half  of  a small 
onion,  chopped  ; a stalk  of  celer}^  and  boil  until  soft.  Rub  through 
a colander  back  into  the  liquor ; season  with  pepper  and  a handful 
of  minced  parsley,  and  return  to  the  fire  with  two  tablespoonfuls  of 
butter  cut  up  in  as  much  flour.  Heat  in  another  vessel  half  a cup- 
ful of  milk,  with  a bit  of  soda  not  larger  than  a pea.  When  the 
puree  has  cooked  three  minutes,  stir  in  the  milk  and  pour  into  the 
tureen. 


Boiled  Corned  Beef. 

Let  the  beef  lie  in  cold  water  for  two  hours  to  draw  out  the  salt. 
Cover  it  then  ‘with  plenty  of  boiling  water,  and  cook  fast  for  flfteen 
minutes.  At  this  point,  arrest  the  boil  by  pouring  in  a pint  of  cold 
water.  The  advantage  of  this  process  is  to  form  a band  of  cooked 
flesh  about  the  piece  to  be  boiled  which  will  keep  in  the  juices. 
Henceforward,  let  the  boiling  be  steady  and  slow,  allowing  fifteen 
minutes  for  each  pound.  When  done,  lift  the  pot  from  the  fire,  and 
even  if  the  beef  is  to  be  served  hot,  let  it  stand  in  the  liquor  for 
ten  minutes  before  dishing  it.  If  you  prefer  it  cold,  leave  it  still 
longer,  and  on  taking  it  out,  lay  a large  dish  or  plate  on  top, 
with  a couple  of  flat  irons  or  other  heavy  articles  to  press  it,  not 
removing  them  until  the  meat  is  cold  and  stiff.  This  should  be 
done  after  dinner  when  it  is  served  hot.  Send  drawn  butter  in  with 
hot  corned  beef ; also  horse-radish. 


Creamed  Onions. 

Boil  the  onions  in  two  waters — hot — putting  a little  salt  in  the 
second.  If  they  arc  full  grown  they  will  require  at  least  an  hour 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


393 


and  a half  to  cook  them  tender.  Drain,  and  pack  them  in  a bake- 
dish  ; pour  a cupful  of  drawn  butter,  in  which  milk  is  used  instead 
of  water,  over  them,  sprinkle  with  fine  crumbs,  pepper  and  salt 
lightly,  and  bake,  covered,  fifteen  minutes,  then  brown.  There  is 
no  nicer  way  of  cooking  ripe  onions  than  this. 


Tomatoes  and  Corn. 

Open  a can  of  com  and  one  of  tomatoes  early  in  the  day,  and 
empty  half  the  contents  of  each  into  a bowl,  and  leave  it,  uncovered, 
in  a cold  place,  until  you  are  ready  to  cook  it.  Put  tomatoes  and 
corn  into  a saucepan,  and  stev/  gently  for  twenty  minutes.  After  it 
boils,  add  a teaspoonful  of  sugar,  half  as  much  salt,  and  a quarter 
as  much  pepper,  with  a tablespoonful  of  butter ; cook  five  minutes 
longer,  and  serve  in  a deep  dish. 


Batter  Pudding. 

Two  even  cups  of  Hecker’s  prepared  flour ; two  cups  of  milk ; 
four  eggs  ; a quarter  teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Beat  eggs  very  light,  whites  and  yolks  separately,  add  thr^  milk 
and  salt  to  the  yolks,  then  whites  and  flour  alternately,  pour  into  a 
buttered  mold,  and  boil  or  steam  for  two  hours.  Eat  with  cream 
sauce. 


Cream  Sauce. 

One  cup  of  sugar ; yolks  of  two  eggs  ; one-half  cupful  of  milk  ; 
one  tablespoonful  of  butter ; one  even  teaspoonful  of  arrowroot ; 
vanilla  flavoring. 


394 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Heat  the  milk  to  boiling,  stir  in  the  arrowroot,  wet  up  with  cold 
milk,  and  add  the  butter.  Pour  this  on  the  beaten  yolks  and  sugar, 
return  to  the  fire,  and  stir  one  minnte,  jnst  long  enough  to  heat  the 
3^olks,  not  to  curdle  them.  Ponr  into  a sauceboat,  flavor  with  a 
teaspoonfnl  of  vanilla  and  set  in  hot  water  (not  boiling)  until  you 
are  ready  for  it. 


Fruit. 

It  is  a pretty  custom  in  some  families  to  have  a dish  of  fruit 
tastefully  arranged  on  the  table  at  every  meal.  Finger  bowls,  with 
ornamental  doilies  between  them  and  the  fruit  plates,  are  half  filled 
with  water  and  a silver  knife  laid  on  each  plate,  all  on  the  buffet,  in 
case  they  are  called  for  at  breakfast  and  lunch,  and  are  set  on  the 
table  after  the  dinner-sweets  are  removed.  Nobody  is  obliged  to 
partake  of  this  course,  but  nearl}^  everybody  likes  a taste  of  grateful 
fruit  acid  to  remove  the  cloyment  of  puddings,  pies,  etc.,  from  the 
tongue. 


No.  27. 

BREAKFAST. 

Oatmeal  Porridge.  Beef  Hash  ati  gratin. 

Barbara’s  Griddle  Cakes. 

Baked  Potatoes.  Fruit. 

Tea.  Coffee. 


Bkkf  Hash  mi  gratin. 

Chop  cold  boiled  or  roast  beef  quite  fine,  removing  all  the  string 
and  l)its  of  tough  skin  ; salt  and  pepper  it,  and  mix  with  one-half 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


395 


as  mucli  mashed  (lumpiest)  potatoes  as  you  have  meat.  Put  a cup 
of  good  gravy  and  half  a teaspoonful  of  mustard  into  a frying-pan 
with  half  a teaspoonful  of  Worcestershire  sauce.  If  yen  have  n<? 
gravy,  substitute  a cup  of  boiling  water  and  a good  spoonful  e... 
butter,  seasoned  as  above.  When  the  gravy  boils,  put  in  the  meat 
and  potatoes ; toss  and  stir  until  it  is  very  hot,  and  bubbles  all  over. 
Turn  out  upon  a stone-china  dish  or  the  block-tin  platter  of  your 
chafing-dish,  strew  thickly  with  fine  crumbs,  and  brown  lightly  on 
the  upper  grating  of  your  oven.  Serve  in  the  dish. 


Barbara’s  Griddle  Cakes. 

Two  cups  of  Indian  meal ; one  cup  of  flour ; three  eggs  ; half  a 
teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  tablespoonful  of  lard,  and  the  same  of 
molasses ; three  cups  of  milk ; half  a teaspoonful  of  soda. 

Wet  the  meal  into  a good  mush  with  boiling  water ; cook  in  a 
farina-kettle  for  an  hour,  stirring  often ; turn  out  and  beat  it  smooth. 
Do  this  over  night.  In  the  morning  beat  in  the  melted  lard,  the 
molasses,  the  eggs,  the  milk,  at  last  the  flour,  sifted  twice  with  the 
salt  and  soda.  Beat  up  well  and  bake  on  a greased  griddle. 


Baked  Potatoes. 

Select  large,  fine  sweet,  or  Irish  potatoes ; wash  them  and  bake 
in  their  skins  in  a steady  oven  until  soft,  turning  them  often  as 
they  cook.  Send  to  table  wrapped  in  a napkin. 


LUNCHEON. 

Oysters  in  Bed.  Fried  Pigs’  Feet. 

Deviled  Tomatoes. 

Crackers  and  Cheese, 
Cafe  au  Lait  Cake. 


Bread  and  Butter. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


OyvSTp:rs  in  Bed. 

Cut  off  the  top  crust  of  a dozen  stale  rolls  or  biscuits,  and  scrape 
out  the  inside,  leaving  the  sides  and  bottoms  intact  ; set  them  with 
the  crusts  laid  beside  them  in  a half-open  oven  to  dry  and  heat. 
Cut  four  dozen  oysters  in  halves;  put  over  the  fire  in  their  liquor 
to  cook  ; when  they  boil  add  the  inside  of  the  rolls,  crumbed  fine, 
a full  tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  flour,  and  half  a cupful  of 
hot  milk  ; cook  three  minutes  longer ; butter  the  inside  of  the  dried 
rolls,  fill  with  the  oyster-mixture,  put  on  the  crusts,  and  serve. 


Fried  Pigs’  Feet. 

Boil  them  slowly  in  hot  water,  slightly  salted,  for  three  hours, 
or  until  tender.  Take  them  out  of  the  liquor  when  cold,  not  before, 
and  la}^  in  enough  vinegar  and  water  (half  and  half),  to  cover  them 
for  half  a day  : wipe ; rub  with  French  mustard,  pepper,  and  if 
needed,  salt ; dip  in  beaten  egg,  then  in  crushed  cracker,  and  fry 
in  hot  lard.  Drain  well  and  eat  hot. 


Deviled  Tomatoes. 

Peel  eight  large,  fair  tomatoes  and  cut  into  thick  slices.  Put  into 
a saucepan  four  tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar,  two  of  best  salad  oil,  one 
tablespoonful  of  sugar,  a quarter-tablespoonful  each,  of  pepper, 
made  mustard  and  salt.  Bring  quickly  to  a boil,  and  pour  hot  over 
the  tomatoes.  Send  at  once  to  table. 


Cafe  au  Lait  Cake. 

Three  cuj^s  of  prepared  flour ; two  cups  of  sugar ; four  table- 
spoonfuls of  butter  creamed  with  the  sugar  ; four  eggs  ; one  cup  of 
milk  ; rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  beat  in  the  yolks,  the  milk, 
the  whipped  whites  and  flonr  by  turns  ; bake  in  jelly  cake  tins. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Filling  for  Cake. 


397 


One  cup  of  milk  and  one  of  strong,  clear  coffee,  strained  ; one  cup 
of  sugar ; two  eggs  : two  tablespoonfuls  of  corn-starch  wet  with  milk ; 
scald  the  milk,  add  the  sugar  and  corn-starch,  and  when  these 
thicken  well,  the  beaten  eggs ; cook  one  minute,  beat  in  the  coffee 
and  let  the  mixture  get  cold  before  spreading  it  between  the  cakes. 


DINNER. 

Turnip  Puree  (without  meai). 

Baked  Flounder  Cutlets.  ' Larded  Beef’s  Tongue. 

Fried  Oyster-Plant.  Celery  au  gratin. 

Mashed  Potatoes.  Marie’s  Pudding. 

Liquid  Sauce.  Coffee. 


Turnip  Purkk. 

A dozen  large,  white  turnips ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter 
rolled  in  one  of  flour ; a cup  of  hot  milk ; pepper ; salt ; a stalk  of 
celery ; two  quarts  of  boiling  water. 

Peel  and  slice  the  turnips  ; boil  with  the  celery  in  salted  water 
until  soft ; rub  through  a colander  back  into  the  pot  with  the  water 
in  which  they  were  cooked ; stir  in  seasoning  and  floured  butter ; 
simmer  ten  minutes,  add  the  hot  milk,  and  turn  into  the  tureen. 


Baked  Flounder  Cutlets. 

Lay  the  fish  flat  on  a dish,  and  make  a deep  cut  over  the  back- 
bone, which  extract  neatly ; divide  the  flounders  into  four  pieces 
each ; have  ready  a cupful  of  skimmed  and  strained  broth,  made  by 


398 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


boiling  a pound  of  fish  in  a pint  of  salted  water,  and  when  you  have 
strained  it,  stirring  in  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  flour,  lay 
the  cutlets  in  a dripping  pan,  cover  with  this  liquor  and  bake,  cov- 
ered, half  an  hour  ; sprinkle  them  with  crumbs  and  Imown  quickly  ; 
remove  the  cutlets  to  a hot  dish,  strain  the  gravy,  add  the  juice  of 
half  a lemon,  boil  up  and  pour  into  a boat. 


Larded  Beef’s  Tongue. 

Boil  a fresh,  fine  tongue  one  hour ; lay  in  cold  water  at  once  to 
make  it  firm.  When  cold,  pare  off  the  skin,  and  lard  it  diagonally 
from  side  to  side  with  strips  of  fat  salt  pork.  Lay  it,  thus  prepared, 
in  a pan  with  half  an  onion,  four  or  five  cloves,  a dozen  peppercorns, 
and  some  minced  parsley.  Dash  a large  cupful  of  hot  water  over 
the  tongue  ; cover  closely  and  cook  gently  two  hours,  turning  twice. 
Remove  the  cover,  rub  the  tongue  over  with  butter,  dredge  with 
flour,  and  brown.  Lay  on  a dish,  add  a little  hot  water  to  the 
gravy,  strain  it,  heat  again,  thicken  with  browned  flour,  stir  in  a 
tablespoonful  of  capers,  boil  up  and  pour  into  a boat. 


Fried  Oyster-Plant. 

Scrape  the  roots  and  cut  them  into  pieces  an  inch  and  a half 
long,  dropping  them,  as  you  do  so,  into  ice- water,  in  which  you  have 
mixed  a tablespoonful  of  vinegar.  This  will  prevent  discoloration. 
Now  boil  the  pieces  in  hot,  salted  water  for  nearly  an  hour.  Drain 
them  and  let  them  cool ; dip  each  piece  in  a batter  made  by  beating 
up  an  egg,  putting  with  it  half  a cup  of  milk  and  three  tablespoon- 
fuls of  prepared  flour,  salted  and  peppered.  Fry  in  hot  lard,  a few 
pieces  at  a time,  drain  off  the  fat  and  serve  on  a hot  dish  lined  with 
tissue-paper,  fringed  at  the  ends.  This  vegetable  cooked  thus  tastes 
very  mucli  like  real  fried  oysters.  Try  it. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Celery  an  Gratin, 


399 


Scrape,  wash  and  cut  the  stalks  into  inch-lengths  ; stew  gently 
until  tender  in  salted  water ; drain  this  off,  lay  the  celery  in  a bake 
dish,  season  with  salt  and  pepper,  cover  with  rich  drawn  butter,  strew 
with  fine  crumbs,  and  brown  lightly. 


Marie’s  Pudding. 

Two  cups  of  fine,  dry  crumbs  ; half  a cup  of  currants,  washed 
and  dried ; half  a cup  of  raisins,  seeded  and  chopped ; a quart  of 
milk ; four  eggs  ; a cup  of  sugar  ; a tablespoonful  of  butter. 

Soak  the  crumbs  in  the  milk,  beat  the  eggs  light  with  the  sugar, 
and  put  in  next  the  bttter,  melted,  then  the  fruit  well  dredged  with 
flour ; boil  in  a buttered  mold  two  hours  and  a half ; dip  for  a 
moment  in  cold  water,  to  loosen  the  pudding,  and  turn  out ; eat 
with  liquid  sauce. 

Liquid  Sauce. 

Pour  a cupful  of  water  into  a saucepan,  stir  in  a cupful  of 
powdered  sugar,  a tablespoonful  of  butter,  and  a good  teaspoonful  of 
arrowroot  wet  with  cold  water ; season  with  nutmeg,  stir  for  two 
minutes  after  it  boils,  and  add  a glass  of  sherry.  Send  to  table  hot 
in  a sauce-tureen. 

No.  28. 

BREAKFAST, 

Imperial  Granum  Porridge. 

Stewed  Eggs.  Risen  MuiOSns. 

Fried  Potatoes.  Oranges  and  Bananas. 

Tea.  CoSee. 


400 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Imperial  Granum  Porridgp:. 


One  cup  of  Imperial  Granum;  three  cups  of  boiling  water; 
one  cup  of  liot  milk  ; half  a teaspoon ful  of  salt. 

Soak  the  granum  in  enough  cold  water  to  cover  it  well  for  four 
or  five  hours,  or  all  night,  if  more  convenient ; in  the  morning  put 
over  the  fire  in  the  boiling  water,  with  the  salt ; cook  half  an  hour, 
stirring  often ; add  the  warm  milk  and  stir  hard  and  long ; cook 
ten  minutes ; beat  up  well  and  pour  out. 


Stewed  Eggs. 

Boil  eight  eggs  hard  and  leave  them  in  cold  water  until  cold ; 
take  off  the  shells,  slice  them,  and  lay  in  a stone  china  or  block  tin 
dish  ; pour  over  them  a well-seasoned  gravy,  thickened  with 
browned  flour ; sift  fine  crumbs  over  all  and  brown  in  a quick  oven. 
They  are  very  savory  if  properly  seasoned. 


Risen  Muffins. 

A quart  of  flour ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  lard,  or  one  of  lard  and 
one  of  butter ; a pint  of  milk  (a  generous  one) , half  a cup  of  yeast 
dissolved  in  half  a cup  of  warm  water ; the  yolks  of  three  eggs ; 
a teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Sift  the  salt  with  the  flour  and  rub  the  shortening  through  it, 
mix  the  egg  and  milk  together,  wet  up  the  flour,  add  the  yeast,  beat 
hard  and  set  to  rise  over  night.  In  the  morning  half-fill  muffin 
tins  with  batter ; let  it  rise  for  half  an  hour,  and  bake. 


LUNCHEON. 

Oysters  scalloped  with  Mushrooms.  Fried  Apples. 

Mince  of  Potatoes  and  Corn.  Brown  Bread  and  Butter. 

Crackers.  Cheese.  Olives.  Roll. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE.  401 

Oysters  Scalloped  with  Mushrooms. 

A quart  of  oysters ; half  a can  of  mushrooms ; a heaping 
tablespoonful  of  butter ; pepper,  salt  and  cracker-crumbs  ; a cup  of 
rich  milk ; one  beaten  egg. 

Lay  a stratum  of  oysters  in  a buttered  bake-dish,  season  with 
pepper  and  salt,  sprinkle  with  chopped  mushrooms  ; cover  with 
crumbs  wet  with  milk  and  dotted  with  butter  ; proceed  in  this  order 
until  the  dish  is  full ; the  topmost  layer  should  be  quite  moist  with 
milk,  in  which  an  egg  has  been  beaten,  and  seasoned  well  with 
pepper,  salt  and  butter.  Bake,  covered,  thirty  minutes,  then  brown. 
Pass  crackers  and  lemon  with  it. 


Fried  Apples. 

Peel  and  cut  into  eighths,  taking  out  the  seeds  and  core  care- 
fully from  each  piece ; heat  some  butter  in  a frying-pan  ; coat  the 
apples  lightly  with  flour,  and  fry  to  a pale  brown  ; drain  ofl*  the  fat 
from  each  slice,  sprinkle  with  sugar  and  pile  on  a hot  dish  ; if  you 
like,  you  may  mix  a little  cinnamon  with  the  sugar ; use  only  tart 
apples  for  frying.  Send  around  slices  of  buttered  brown-bread  with 
them. 


Mince  of  Potatoes  and  Corn, 

Chop  cold  boiled  potatoes  into  dice,  drain  off  the  liquor  from 
half  a can  of  com,  boil  ten  minutes  in  salted  water,  and  let  the  corn 
cool ; mix  well  with  the  potatoes,  seasoning  with  pepper  and  salt. 
Put  three  or  four  tablespoonfuls  of  nice  dripping  in  a frying-pan, 
and  when  it  boils,  stir  in  the  corn  and  potatoes  with  a fork,  tossing 
about  until  they  are  thoroughly  heated.  Serve  in  a hot,  covered 
dish.  Cold  potatoes  and  stewed  corn  “ left  over,^’  will  do  for  this 
dish. 


402  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

Jelly  Roll. 

One  and  a-half  cups  of  prepared  flour;  one  cup  of  powdered 
sugar  ; four  eggs  ; half  cup  of  milk  ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter ; 
jelly. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  together,  add  the  beaten  yolks,  the  milk, 
then  whipped  whites  and  flour,  lightly  and  quickly.  Bake  in  a 
large  buttered  pan ; turn  out  on  a clean,  damp  cloth,  spread  with 
jelly,  and  roll  up  closely  upon  it. 


DINNER. 

Lima  Bean  Soup.  Curried  Chicken  Pie. 

Stewed  Cabbage.  Fried  Celery.  Potatoes  Boiled  Whole. 

Sweet  Potato  Pie.  Fruit.  Coffee. 


Lima  Bean  Soup. 

Two  quarts  of  soup  stock  ; one  quart  of  Lima  beans ; if  dried, 
soak  them  all  night,  putting  a bit  of  soda  in  the  water ; two  eggs ; 
half-cupful  of  corn  meal  scalded  to  a soft  mush  ; two  tablespoonfuls 
of  minced  parsley ; pepper ; salt ; two  stalks  of  celery  ; half  an 
onion,  sliced  and  fried  to  a nice  brown  in  the  butter  or  dripping. 

The  liquor  in  which  corned  beef  was  boiled  will  do  nicely  for 
the  stock.”  In  that  case,  put  no  salt  in  the  soup.  Put  all  the 
ingredients  except  the  eggs  together  in  the  soup-kettle  and  cook 
slowly  until  the  beans  are  very  soft ; rub  through  a colander,  season 
to  taste,  return  to  the  soup  pot,  and  when  it  boils,  stir  in  the  beaten 
eggs;  pour  into  the  tureen,  lay  on  the  surface  some  thin  slices  of 
lemon  from  which  the  peel  has  been  cut,  and  serve. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Curried  Chicken  Pie. 


403 


Joint  a pair  of  tender  chickens  as  for  fricassee  ; roll  in  flour  and 
fry  in  dripping  or  lard  until  they  begin  to  brown  ; put  into  a deep 
bake-dish  a layer  of  the  fowl,  cover  with  thin  slices  of  fat  salt  pork. 
Have  ready  two  cupfuls  of  boiled  rice  in  which  have  been  worked  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter  and  two  even  teaspoonfuls  of  curry-powder ; 
cover  the  chicken  with  some  of  this  ; put  in  more  fowl  and  pork, 
more  rice,  etc.  When  all  are  in,  pour  in  a cupful  of  broth  made  by 
stewing  the  feet,  necks  and  pinions  of  the  chickens  in  a pint  of 
water,  then  straining  and  seasoning  it.  Cover  the  whole  with  a good 
crust,  cut  a slit  in  the  middle ; bake,  covered,  forty  minutes,  and 
brown  nicely.  Wash  the  crust  with  beaten  white  of  egg. 


Stewed  Cabbage. 

Shred  a cabbage  with  a keen  knife  ; put  over  the  fire  in  plenty 
of  boiling  water,  slightly  salted,  with  a bit  of  soda  in  it,  and  cook 
for  twenty  minutes ; drain  off  the  water  and  put  in  just  enough 
fresh  and  boiling  to  cover  it.  Cook  ten  minutes  ; add  two  table- 
spoonfuls of  vinegar,  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  flour, 
pepper  and  salt.  Stew  ten  minutes  longer,  and  turn  out. 


Fried  Celery. 

Cut  firm,  white  celery  into  pieces  two  inches  long ; put  on  to 
boil  in  hot  salted  water,  and  cook  twenty  minutes  ; take  up  with  a 
split  spoon  and  drop  into  ice-water.  Leave  them  there  ten  minutes  ; 
take  out,  lay  between  two  cloths  and  pat  dry ; spread  on  a dish  to 
cool ; sprinkle  with  salt  and  pepper,  dip  each  piece  in  egg,  then  in 
fine  cracker  crumbs,  and  fry  in  clarified  dripping  or  salted  lard. 
Drain  well,  and  serve  hot. 


404 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Sweet  Potato  Pie. 


Parboil  firm  sweet  potatoes  and  let  them  get  cold  with  the  skins 
on  ; peel  them,  then,  and  slice  crosswise.  Have  ready  a pie-dish  lined 
with  a good  crust  (it  never  pays  to  make  any  other);  put  in  a layer 
of  sliced  potatoes,  sprinkle  well  with  sugar,  and  drop  bits  of  butter 
here  and  there  ; allow  a teaspoonfnl  of  brandy  and  five  cloves  to 
each  layer ; also,  a dozen  or  so  drops  of  lemon  j nice  ; more  potatoes  ; 
sugar,  blitter,  brandy,  cloves  and  lemon  juice  until  the  dish  is  full. 
Put  in  two  tablespoonfuls  of  water  and  cover  all  with  pastry.  Cut 
a slit  in  the  top,  and  bake.  Eat  cold  with  powdered  sugar  sprinkled 
over  the  top,  and  accompanied  with  good  old  cheese.  There  are 
not  many  more  delightful  pies  than  is  this  old  Virginia  dessert 
when  properly  made.  The  potatoes  should  be  dry  and  sweet,  the 
seasoning  j udicious. 

I have  heard  that  Irish  potato  pie  is  good  made  after  the  same 
receipt,  but  I prefer  to  wait  for  something  more  than  hearsay 
evidence  before  recommending  it.  It  would  certainly  require  much 
more  sugar  than  sweet  potatoes,  and  very  skillful  “ trimmings  ’’ 
altogether. 


No,  2Q. 

BREAKFAST, 

Rye  Porridge. 

Flannel  Cakes. 

Coffee. 


Kidneys  and  Ham. 
Toast.  Boiled  Eggs. 

Tea.  Fruit. 


Rye  Porridge. 

One  cup  of  rye  meal  ; three  large  cups  of  boiling  water,  and  one 
of  hot  milk  ; one  teasj^oonful  of  salt. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


405 


When  the  salted  water  reaches  the  boil,  stir  in  the  meal ; cook 
one  hour  after  the  water  in  the  outer  vessel  begins  to  bubble  again, 
add  the  hot  milk,  and  simmer  five  minutes  before  turning  out. 


Kidneys  and  Ham. 

Split  each  kidney  lengthwise  and  cleanse  from  fat  and  strings. 
Have  as  many  slices  of  cold  boiled  ham,  fat  and  lean  together,  aa 
you  have  pieces  of  kidney,  cutting  them  into  pieces  of  the  same 
breadth  and  length.  String  half  kidneys  and  bits  of  ham  alter- 
nately on  slender  skewers,  a piece  of  ham  at  each  end.  When  the 
skewers  are  full,  broil  over  a clear  fire  for  eight  minutes,  turning 
often ; lay  the  skewers  in  a row  on  a hot  dish,  pepper,  salt,  and  baste 
with  butter  before  sending  to  table. 


Flannel  Cakes  (without  eggs). 

One  quart  of  milk  ; one  cup  of  cornmeal,  and  nearly  three  of 
flour ; half  cake  of  yeast  stirred  in  a half-cup  of  warm  water ; one 
large  cup  of  boiling  water;  one  teaspoonful  of  salt;  one  tea- 
spoonful of  molasses  ; bit  of  soda  the  size  of  a pea  in  the  milk. 

Scald  the  meal  in  the  boiling  water,  stir  in  the  milk,  and  strain 
through  a colander,  add  flour  and  yeast,  and  let  it  rise  until  morn- 
ing ; beat  in  salt  and  molasses,  and,  when  the  batter  is  smooth  and 
light,  bake  on  a griddle.  They  are  very  nice. 


LUNCHEON. 

Beef  Scallop.  Cheese-Fingers. 

Fried  Potatoes.  Brown  Bread  and  Butter. 

Doughnuts.  Tea. 


4o6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Beef  Scallop. 


Two  cups  of  cold,  underdone  roast  beef ; one  cup  of  raw  pota- 
toes, cut  into  dice ; two  beaten  eggs  ; mustard ; pepper ; salt ; a 
teaspoonful  of  finely  minced  onion  ; one  cupful  of  gravy  or  stock. 

Peel  and  cut  the  potatoes,  lay  them  in  cold  water  for  half  an 
hour,  drain,  cover  them  with  boiling,  salted  water  and  stew  gently 
ten  minutes  ; drain  off  the  water,  add  the  grav}^  and  the  beef 
chopped  fine,  cook  slowly  for  ten  minutes,  turn  into  a bowl,  beat  in 
the  eggs,  the  onion,  salt,  pepper  and  mustard,  put  into  a greased 
bake-dish,  strew  crumbs  on  top,  bake,  covered,  half  an  hour,  then 
brown. 


Cheese  Fingers. 

This  is  a good  way  to  use  up  scraps  of  pastry  left  over  from 
baking  pies.  Cut  into  strips  as  long  as  your  middle  finger,  and 
twice  as  wide  ; strew  with  dry,  grated  cheese,  a little  salt,  and  just 
a pinch  of  cayenne  ; double  them  lengthwise  ; pinch  the  edges 
together  along  their  length,  sprinkle  more  cheese  upon  them  and 
bake  quickly ; pile  within  a napkin  on  a hot  dish,  and  serve  at 
once.  ^ 


Doughnuts. 

Two  cups  of  milk  ; one  cup  of  sugar ; one  quart  of  flour ; three 
eggs  ; a teaspoonful  of  salt ; one-half  of  a yeast  cake  ; one  full  table- 
spoon ful  of  butter ; half  teaspoonful  of  mixed  cinnamon  and  mace ; 
bit  of  soda  in  the  milk. 

Heat  the  milk  and  stir  in  the  sugar  and  butter ; while  it  is  cooh 
ing,  sift  the  salt  twice  in  the  flour  and  dissolve  the  yeast-cake  in  a 
little  warm  water.  Mix  all  while  the  milk  is  blood-warm,  and  let 
the  dough  rise  till  morning.  Then  work  in  the  whipped  eggs ; 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


407 


knead  the  soft  dough  for  one  minute,  and  set  for  the  second  rising ; 
it  should  be  very  light  before  you  roll  it  out  into  a sheet  and  cut  it 
into  shapes ; after  cutting  them,  let  them  stand  half  an  hour  and 
fry  in  plenty  of  hot  lard ; in  frying  doughnuts,  always  put  them 
into  the  kettle  with  the  side  downward  that  was  uppermost  on  the 
dish  from  which  you  take  them  ; they  rise  better  thus  ; fish  out 
when  done  with  a split  spoon,  and  put  in  a hot  colander,  sifting 
powdered  sugar  over  them  while  warm. 


DINNER. 

Turnip  Soup.  Deviled  Oysters. 

Braised  Beef.  Spinach  on  Toast.  Fried  Parsnips. 

Mashed  Potatoes.  Cup  Pl7:tm  Pudding. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Turnip  Soup  (without  meat). 

Eight  or  ten  large  white  turnips  ; half  an  onion,  sliced  and  fried 
to  a light  brown  ; .one  stalk  of  celery  ; one  pint  of  milk ; one  table- 
spoonful of  minced  parsley ; one  tablespoonful  of  flour  rolled  in 
three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  ; two  quarts  of  water  ; bit  of  soda  in 
milk. 

Peel,  slice,  and  lay  the  turnips  in  cold  water  for  an  hour,  drain 
and  put  in  the  soup  kettle  with  the  fried  onion,  celery  and  parsley  ; 
add  the  cold  water,  and  cook  all  tender ; rub  the  soup  through  a 
colander,  season,  and  return  to  the  fire ; stir  in  the  buttered  flour, 
simmer  five  minutes,  add  the  milk  and  pour  out. 


Deviled  Oysters. 

Wipe  large,  frying  size  ” oysters  dry,  and  lay  in  a mixture  made 
by  allowing  the  juice  of  a lemon  to  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  a 


4o8 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


little  salt  and  a pinch  of  cayenne.  Turn  the  oysters  over  and  over 
in  this,  then  in  fine  crumbs,  and  broil  on  a wire  broiler  over  a clear 
fire.  Serve  hot. 


Braised  Beef. 

Put  a brisket  of  beef  into  a broad-bottomed  pot  and  set  it  over 
the  fire.  At  the  end  of  ten  minutes  turn  it,  and  again  in  ten 
minutes  more.  Repeat  this  once  more  for  each  side ; then  pour  in 
two  cups  of  boiling  water,  fit  on  a close  top  and  cook  slowly  one 
hour  before  turning  the  meat.  After  this,  cook  an  hour  longer  if 
the  meat  weighs  seven  or  eight  pounds- — keeping  the  top  on.  Set 
the  beef  in  the  oven,  sift  flour  over  it,  baste  freely  with  the  gravy, 
and  brown  for  five  or  six  minutes  before  dishing.  Skim  and  season 
the  gravy,  thicken  with  browned  flour  and  serve  in  a boat. 

Spinach  on  Toast. 

Pick  the  leaves  over  carefully,  rejecting  the  stems,  wash  and 
put  into  a saucepan,  with  a cup  of  water  to  a half-peck  of  leaves. 
Cover,  and  cook  for  twenty  minutes,  drain  and  chop  it  as  fine  as 
possible ; put  back  over  the  fire,  and  beat  in  a tablespoonful  of  but- 
ter, a teaspoonful  of  sugar,  salt,  pepper,  a dash  of  nutmeg  and  the 
juice  of  half-a-lemon.  Whip  smooth  and  press  hard  into  heated 
egg  or  custard  cups  to  mold  it.  Have  ready  crustless  rounds  of 
toast,  buttered  well,  on  a heated  platter.  Turn  out  a mold  of  spin- 
ach on  each,  and  put  a slice  of  hard-boiled  egg  on  the  top  of  the  mold. 

Fried  Parsnips. 

Scrape,  and  leave  in  cold  water  for  an  hour,  then  cook  half  an 
hour  in  hot,  salted  water,  wipe,  slice  lengthwise,  dip  in  melted 
butter,  then  in  flour  seasoned  with  salt  and  pepper,  and  fry  in  boil- . 
ing  dripping.  Drain  free  of  fat,  and  dish. 


409 


AUTUMN  BIIvUS  OF  FARE. 

Cup  Plum  Pudding. 

Two  cups  of  fine,  dry  crumbs ; one  cup  of  flour ; one  cup  of 
milk  ; one  cup  of  sugar ; half  cup  of  molasses  ; one  cup  of  raisins, 
stoned  and  chopped,  and  the  same  of  currants  ; half  cup  of  sliced 
citron  ; half  cup  of  powdered  suet ; four  eggs  ; one  teaspoonful 
mixed  cinnamon  and  allspice  ; one  even  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted 
twice  with  the  flour. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  molasses,  milk,  suet,  crumbs,  sugar, 
spice,  fruit  (dredged  with  flour) , mix  well ; turn  into  a buttered 
mold  and  boil  five  hours.  Eat  with  both  hard  and  liquid  sauce. 


No.  30. 


Oatmeal  Porridge. 

Corn  Bread. 
Graham  Bread. 
Fruit. 


BREAKFAST. 


Deviled  Rabbit. 
Lyonnaise  Potatoes. 

White  Bread  sliced  thin. 
Tea.  Coffee. 


Oatmeal  Porridge. 

Half  a pint  of  oatmeal — full  measure  ; one  quart  of  boiling  water, 
salted  slightly. 

If  the  meal  is  not  steam-cooked,  soak  all  night  in  enough  cold 
water  to  cover  it.  In  the  morning  stir  into  the  boiling  water,  beat- 
ing up  well  for  a whole  minute.  Cook  in  a farina  kettle.  Do  not 
leave  the  spoon  in  or  stir  it  every  few  minutes,  as  the  manner  of 
some  is.  Four  good  stirs  are  sufficient,  but  they  must  be  thorough. 
Keep  covered,  and*  boil  steadily  for  an  hour,  and  as  much  longer  as 
you  like.  Serve  in  a deep  dish  and  eat  with  cream,  and,  if  desired, 
sugar. 


410 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

Deviled  Rabbit. 


Skin  and  dress  the  rabbit,  taking  especial  care  to  clean  it  well. 
This  part  of  the  business  is  often  done  in  a disgracefully  slovenly 
way.  Lay  it  on  the  side  in  a dripping  pan,  pour  a cupful  of  boiling 
water  over  it,  cover  with  another  pan  and  bake,  basting  often 
with  the  hot  water  in  the  lower  pan  until  tender.  Uncover  then, 
and  lay  on  a hot  dish  to  keep  warm  while  you  make  the  sauce. 
Mix  ill  a cup  three  tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar,  one  tablespoonful  of 
butter,  rolled  in  one  of  browned  flour,  half  a teaspoonful  of  mus- 
tard and  a good  pinch  of  cayenne.  Salt  to  taste — about  half  a tea- 
spoonful. Strain  the  gravy  left  in  the  baking  pan  into  a 
saucepan,  add  the  vinegar,  etc.,  and  stir  to  a sharp  boil.  Pour  over 
the  rabbit  gradually,  turning  and  lifting  it  that  the  sauce  may  soak 
in  well,  cover,  and  set  in  the  oven  until  very  hot.  Five  minutes 
should  be  enough  if  the  oven  is  good.  Send  to  table  in  the  chafing- 
dish  in  which  it  was  kept  hot. 


Corn  Bread. 

One  cup  of  white  cornmeal,  and  the  same  of  flour ; one  cup  of 
fresh  milk  ; one-half  cup  of  sugar  ; half  teaspoonful  of  salt ; one 
teaspoonful  of  soda  and  two  of  cream  of  tartar  sifted  with  meal  and 
flour ; two  eggs  beaten  light ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  together  to  a cream  ; add  the  eggs  ; when 
these  are  beaten  in,  add  the  milk,  the  salt,  and  lastly  the  flour,  which 
should  have  been  sifted  twice  with  the  meal,  soda  and  cream  of  tar- 
tar. Beat  hard  one  minute,  turn  into  a shallow  baking  pan,  well 
greased,  and  set  at  once  in  a steady  oven.  When  done  (test  with  a 
straw  ruu  iuto  the  thickest  part)  cut  iuto  squares  and  serve. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Lyonnaise  Potatoes. 


411 


Slice  cold,  boiled  potatoes.  Have  ready  in  a frying-pan  a great 
spoonful  of  nice  dripping  or  of  butter.  Into  this,  when  hot,  put  a 
tablespoonful  of  finely  minced  onion,  pepper  and  salt,  lightly,  and 
fry  to  a light  brown.  Then  add  potatoes,  and  stir  gently  with  a 
fork,  not  to  break  them,  until  very  hot.  Lastly,  put  in  a full  tea- 
spoonful  of  minced  parsley ; toss  together  with  a fork  and  serve 
very  hot. 


LUNCHEON. 


Veal  and  Ham  Croquettes.  Baked 
Apple  Sauce.  Sponge  Cake. 

Crackers  and  Cheese. 


Sweet  Potatoes. 

Bread  and  Butter. 
Tea. 


Veae  and  Ham  Croquettes. 

Mix  the  remnants  of  cold  roast  or  fried  veal,  chopped,  with 
one-third  as  much  cold  boiled  ham,  also  minced.  Leave  out  bits  of 
skin  and  gristle.  Season  with  pepper  and  a pinch  of  nutmeg.  The 
ham  supplies  salt.  Work  in  one-fourth  as  much  bread  crumbs  as 
there  is  meat ; wet  slightly  with  gravy  or  drawn  butter ; add  a beaten 
egg ; make  into  rolls  the  length  of  your  middle  finger  and  a third 
as  thick ; roll  in  beaten  egg,  then  in  cracker  dust,  and  set  in  a very 
cold  place  for  half  an  hour.  It  is  even  better  to  make  the  croquettes 
several  hours  before  cooking  them,  not  rolling  them  in  egg  and 
cracker  until  you  are  quite  ready  to  fry  them.  Have  dripping 
enough  in  frying  pan  to  cover  them  entirely.  This  is  what  is  called 
“ frying  in  deep  fat.”  When  it  is  hissing  hot,  put  in  a few  at  a 
time  (first  testing  the  heat  with  one)  and  fry  to  a light  brown. 


412 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Turn  carefully  as  they  cook,  to  keep  them  round.  As  each  is  done 
take  up  with  a split  spoon  and  lay  in  a hot  colander  to  drain  off  the 
fat.  Lay  ueatly  on  a heated  dish,  and  garnish  with  parsley. 


Baked  Sweet  Potatoes. 

Select  those  of  uniform  size,  wash,  wipe,  and  lay  in  a baking- 
pan.  Set  in  a good  oven  and  bake  until  the  largest  “ gives  ” when 
pinched.  Turn  several  times  while  baking,  that  the  lower  sides 
fliay  not  burn.  Wrap  in  a napkin  and  serve  on  a hot  dish. 

Apple  Sauce. 

Pare  and  slice  juicy,  tart  apples  ; put  into  a tinned  or  porcelain- 
lined  vessel,  pour  in  half  a cup  of  water  to  prevent  scorching,  and 
cook  gently  until  tender  and  broken  to  pieces.  Turn  out  into  a 
bowl,  sweeten  abundantly,  and  rub  through  a clean  colander.  Set 
away  to  cool. 


Sponge  Cake. 

Six  eggs  ; the  weight  of  the  eggs  in  powdered  sugar ; half  the 
weight  of  the  eggs  in  prepared  flour;  one  lemon,  juice  and  rind. 

Beat  whites  and  yolks  separately  and  very  light.  When  the 
yolks  are  smooth,  beat  in  the  sugar,  then  the  juice  of  the  lemon  in 
which  the  grated  peel  has  stood  fifteen  minutes  or  more,  then  been 
strained  out  through  a cloth.  Now  stir  in  the  whites,  and,  last  of 
all,  the  prepared  flour  as  quickly  and  lightly  as  will  suffice  to  mix 
all  into  a light  batter.  Butter  a mold  and  bake  it,  covering  with 
paper  as  soon  as  it  has  puffed  up  to  the  desired  height  aud  is  crusted 
over.  Test  with  a straw  to  see  if  it  is  doue,  aud  bake  steadily 
rather  than  fast.  There  is  no  better  receipt  than  this  simple  one 
for  sponge  cake.  A little  practice  will  soon  make  you  an  adept  in 
preparing  it. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE.  413 

DINNER. 

Clear  Soup.  Creamed  Lobster. 

Stewed  Beefsteak.  Cauliflower.  Potatoes  in  Cases. 

Horse  Radish.  Burnt  Custard.  Light  Cakes. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Clear  Soup. 

Ask  your  butcher  to  send  you  six  pounds  of  beef-shin  and  a 
knuckle  of  veal  weighing  half  as  much,  and  to  crack  the  bones  and 
joints  faithfully.  Put  these  over  the  fire  with  eight  quarts  of  cold 
water ; cover  and  set  at  the  back  of  the  range  until  the  water  is  hot. 
Bring  forward  and  increase  the  heat.  When  the  scum  rises,  take  it 
off  and  keep  the  soup  at  a slow  bubble  for  three  hours.  Throw  in 
three  dozen  whole  black  peppers,  and  half  the  number  of  whole 
cloves  and  boil — always  slowly — for  three  hours  more.  Do  this  the 
day  before  the  soup  is  to  be  eaten.  Turn  out  the  contents  of  the  pot 
into  a crock  or  bowl,  and  let  all  stand  together  until  next  day 
when  you  have  salted  to  taste.  The  fat  will  rise  to  the  top  over 
night  in  a solid  cake.  Remove  every  particle  of  it  and  set  by  for 
dripping.  Return  bones  and  liquor  to  the  fire,  and  when  hot,  strain 
through  a colander  into  a crock.  This  is  “ soup  stock,”  and  if  kept 
in  a cool  place,  will  remain  good  for  days  in  winter.  For  the  clear 
soup  of  to-day,  dip  out  a quart,  heat  slowly  to  a boil,  dropping  in 
a quarter-onion  as  it  heats,  and  when  it  simmers,  the  white  and  shell 
of  an  egg,  stirred  in  until  it  coagulates.  Stir  again  and  again,  that 
it  may  not  “ catch  ” on  the  bottom,  and  boil  steadily — not  fast — 
for  five  minutes.  Strain  without  squeezing,  through  a thick  cloth 
into  a clean  pot,  boil  up  again,  add  half  a teaspoonful  of  Worcester- 
shire sauce  and  a teaspoonful  of  celery  extract,  and  serve.  The 
stock  ” will  serve  as  a foundation  for  many  varieties  of  soups. 


414 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Creamed  Lobster. 

Meat  of  one  lobvSter,  or  a can  of  preserved  lobster  or  crab ; one 
Clip  of  creamy  milk  (all-cream  is  best)  ; one  half-cup  of  cracker- 
crumbs  ; two  tablespoonfiils  of  butter  rolled  in  flour  ; pepper,  cay- 
enne and  salt ; half  a cup  of  bread-crumbs. 

Strain  off  the  lobster-liquor,  if  you  use  the  canned  fish  ; cut 
the  meat  into  small  dice  with  a sharp  knife,  season,  and  set  aside 
while  you  heat  the  milk,  or  cream  in  a farina  kettle,  dropping  in  a 
tiny  bit  of  soda.  When  it  is  hot,  stir  in  the  butter  cut  up  in  a table- 
spoonful of  flour  and,  as  this  begins  to  thicken,  the  lobster.  Have 
ready  buttered  silver,  or  china,  or  earthen  scallop-shells,  fill  with 
the  mixture,  strew  fine,  dry  crumbs  on  top,  and  brown  in  a quick 
oven.  Send  around  sliced  lemon  with  the  shells,  and  crackers. 


Stewed  Beefsteak. 

Drain  the  liquor  from  a can  of  tomatoes,  then  strain  it  through 
coarse  muslin  into  a dripping-pan.  Lay  the  steak  in  this,  turning 
it  over  twice  to  wet  both  sides.  If  there  is  not  enough  juice  to  cover 
it  well,  add  cold  water.  Invert  a pan  over  it  to  keep  in  the  steam, 
and  set  in  a slow  oven.  Cook  tender,  turning  the  steak  over  twice 
an  hour,  and,  should  the  liquor  leave  it  uncovered,  pour  in  a little 
hot  water.  Stew  slowly  for  at  least  two  hours-and-a-half.  Transfer 
the  meat  to  a hot  platter,  pepper,  salt  and  butter,  cover  closely,  and 
set  over  hot  water.  Skim  the  gravy  well.  Put  the  pan  containing 
it  on  the  top  of  the  stove,  add  a tablespoonful  of  minced  onion,  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  browned  flour,  and  boil  up, 
stirring  all  the  time.  Then,  put  in  the  tomatoes  from  which  the 
juice  was  strained,  simmer  three  minutes  or  until  they  are  scalding 
hot.  Take  up  the  tomatoes  and  lay  around  the  steak ; strain  the 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


41S 


gravy  through  a soup  sieve  into  a bowl ; pour  half  over  the  steak, 
the  rest  into  a boat.  This  is  a good  way  of  cooking  a tough  steak. 


Cauliflower. 

Cut  away  the  leaves  and  the  stalk  close  to  the  body  of  the  cauli- 
flower; lay  in  cold  water  half  an  hour,  tie  in  coarse  mosquito 
netting  and  boil  in  hot,  salted  water,  changing  this  for  water  from 
the  kettle  at  the  end  of  fifteen  minutes.  Salt  this  also  and  slightly. 
In  twenty  minutes  more,  if  the  cauliflower  be  not  large  and  is  fresh, 
take  it  from  the  fire,  remove  the  netting,  lay  in  a dish  and  pour  a 
good  drawn  butter  over  it.  Some  add  the  juice  of  a lemon  to  the 
drawn  butter. 

Potatoes  in  Cases. 

Bake  fine,  large  potatoes  until  soft.  Cut  a cap  from  the  top 
of  each,  scoop  out  the  contents  without  breaking  the  skin  ; beat  the 
potato  light  with  butter  and  milk,  salting  to  your  liking,  return  to 
the  skins,  filling  each  so  full  that  the  creamed  potato  protrudes 
from  the  top ; set  in  a quick  oven  to  brown  lightly,  and  arrange, 
open  ends  up,  upon  a flat  dish. 

Horse  Radish. 

Grate  and  keep  in  vinegar  as  a condiment  for  beef. 


Burnt  Custard. 

Five  eggs ; one  quart  of  milk,  with  a tablespoon ful  of  corn-starch 
stirred  in  ; five  good  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar ; two  teaspoonfuls  of 
vanilla  extract.  • 

Beat  the  eggs  light  with  the  sugar ; heat  the  milk  to  scalding  in 
a farina  kettle,  pour  on  the  eggs,  flavor  and  turn  into  a buttered 


4i6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


bowl  or  mold;  set  this  in  a pan  of  boiling  water,  and  this  in  the 
oven.  Now  cover  the  top  of  the  mold  with  a plate  or  a tin  pan 
or  a pot  lid,  and  bake  until  well-set,  even  in  the  middle.  Take  from 
the  oven,  dip  tlie  mold  in  cold  water,  taking  care  not  to  let  any  get 
into  the  custard  ; rnn  a knife  around  the  edge  to  loosen  the  pudding, 
and  turn  out  cautiously  upon  a hot  plate.  Have  ready  to  pour  over  it 
half  a Clip  of  caramel  made  by  putting  half  a cup  of  sugar  over  a fire 
in  a tin  cup,  and  when  it  is  all  one  brown  bubble,  adding  a table- 
spoonful of  boiling  water,  and  stirring  it  on  the  range  until  it  boils 
again.  Strain  it  over  the  custard. 


Light  Cakes. 

Pretty  fancy  cakes  may  be  contrived  by  making  a good  cup 
cake,  baking  it  in  square  pans,  and  when  cool,  cutting  it  into 
oblong  or  square  pieces,  and  icing  these  on  top  and  sides. 


No.  31. 

BREAKFAST. 

Hominy.  Breaded  Scallops. 

Potato  Drop-Cakes.  Peach  Short-cake. 

Cold  Bread,  white  and  brown. 

Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Breaded  Scallops. 

Lay  the  fish  on  a clean  cloth,  and  cover  with  another,  pressing 
gently  on  the  upper  to  rid  them  of  moisture.  Dip  in  beaten  egg, 
then  in  fine  cracker-crumbs,  and  fry  in  hot  lard  or  dripping.  Take 
lip  in  a split  spoon,  shake  off  the  fat,  and  serve  on  a hot  dish  with 
a border  of  water-cresses. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE.  417 

Potato  Drop  Cakes. 

Two  cupfuls  of  mashed  potatoes,  add  two  cupfuls  of  warm  milk, 
a tablespoonful  of  melted  butter,  two  beaten  eggs,  half  a cupful  of 
prepared  flour  and  half  a teaspoonful  of  salt.  Beat  the  whole  hard 
and  drop  in  great  spoonfuls  on  a greased  griddle.  Serve  very  hot 
as  soon  as  they  are  baked. 

Peach  Shortcake. 

One  quart  of  prepared  flour ; two  cups  of  milk,  blood  warm  ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  lard  and  one  of  butter ; half  a teaspoonful  of  salt ; 
one  can  of  peaches. 

Rub  or  chop  the  shortening  into  the  salted  flour,  wet  with  the 
milk,  and  roll  into  a sheet  half  an  inch  thick.  Line  a broad,  shallow 
baking  pan  with  half  of  this  ; drain  the  liquor  from  the  peaches,  lay 
them  out  on  a cloth  to  get  rid  of  all  the  juice  that  will  come  away  ; 
put  them  in  a thick  layer  on  the  paste  in  the  pan,  strew  with  sugar, 
cover  with  the  reserved  crust,  and  bake  in  a good,  not  too  hot  oven. 
When  done,  cut  in  squares  and  pile  on  a plate.  Split  and  eat  with 
butter  and  sugar. 


LUNCHEON. 

Scotch  Herrings.  Hashed  Potatoes. 

Cold  Beefs  Heart.  Crackers.  Cheese.  Olives. 
Sponge,  or  Plain  Cake  Fritters.  Cocoa-theta. 


Scotch  Herrings. 

Lay  them  on  a pie  plate,  cover  closely,  and  set  in  the  oven  until 
very  hot.  Butter  each  lightly,  pepper,  and  squeeze  a few  drops  of 
lemon  juice  on  it.  Serve  on  a heated  platter,  and  pass  toasted  and 
buttered  crackers  with  them. 


4i8  house  and  home. 

Hashed  Potatoes. 

Cut  cold  boiled  potatoes  into  dice,  pepper  and  salt  lightly,  and 
add  a cupful  of  milk  for  each  pint  of  chopped  potatoes.  Turn  into 
a farina-kettle,  and  cook  until  scalding  hot.  Add  a teaspoonful  of 
butter  rolled  in  half  as  much  flour,  and  a teaspoonful  of  minced 
parsle}^  Cook  until  the  milk  thickens,  and  dish. 


Cold  Beef’s  Heart. 

Wash  the  heart  well  and  soak  for  half  an  hour  in  cold,  salted 
water.  Wipe  and  stuff  the  orifices  well  with  a forcemeat  of  bread- 
crumbs, fat  salt  pork,  minced  fine,  and  a little  onion,  chopped  and 
seasoned  with  pepper.  Sew  up  in  coarse  muslin  fitted  to  the  shape 
of  the  heart,  put  on  to  boil  in  cold,  salted  water,  with  a tablespoon ful 
of  vinegar  to  the  quart.  Boil  slowly  two  hours,  turning  several 
times.  Put  under  a heavy  weight  when  done,  and  leave  it  for  twelve 
hours.  Take  off  the  cloth  then,  and  your  cold  entree  is  ready.  Slice 
crosswise. 


Sponge  Cake  Fritters. 

Cut  inch-thick  slices  of  stale  sponge  or  very  plain  cake,  and  fry 
quickly  in  sweet  lard.  As  each  slice  browns,  take  it  up  and  dip  for 
a hasty  second  in  boiling  milk,  spread  at  once  with  sauce  made  by 
rubbing  a tablespoonful  of  butter  to  a cream,  with  nearly  a cupful 
of  powdered  sugar  and  the  juice  of  a lemon.  Pile  the  slices  on  a 
hot  plate  and  keep  hot  in  the  oven  until  served. 


DINNER. 

Chicken  and  Sago  Broth.  Mutton  and  Macaroni. 
Spinach.  Dundee  Haggis.  Rice  Cream. 
Fruit.  Coffee. 


419 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Chicken  and  Sago  Broth. 

Three  pints  of  liquor  in  which  a chicken  has  been  boiled  ; half 
cupful  of  German  sago  ; two  cups  of  milk  ; three  eggs  ; two  table- 
spoonfuls of  minced  parsley ; pepper  and  salt. 

Soak  the  sago  four  hours  in  enough  cold  water  to  cover  it,  then  add 
it  to  the  liquor,  which  should  have  been  strained  and  skimmed,  and 
put  over  the  fire  in  a farina  kettle.  Heat  to  boiling,  by  which  time 
the  sago  should  be  dissolved.  Heat  the  milk  in  a separate  vessel 
and  pour,  scalding  hot,  on  the  heated  yolks  ; add  (with  a pinch  of 
soda)  to  the  sago  broth  ; season,  stir  for  five  minutes  ; beat  in  the 
frothed  whites  and  parsley,  and  turn  out. 


Mutton  and  Macaroni. 

Cover  the  bottom  of  a wide  kettle  with  chopped  salt  pork.  Lay 
on  this  a breast  or  shoulder  of  mutton — not  too  fat.  Peel  a lemon, 
slice  thin  and  lay  over  the  meat,  then,  more  sliced  pork,  a little 
chopped  onion  and  parsley,  with  a sprig  of  mint,  if  you  can  get  it. 
Pour  over  all  two  cups  of  boiling  water.  Cover  with  a close  lid, 
and  cook  gently  for  two  hours,  turning  the  meat  once.  Have  ready 
half  a pound  of  macaroni  broken  into  inch-long  pieces  which  has 
been  cooked  twenty  minutes  in  boiling,  salted  water.  Drain  it,  toss 
a tablespoonful  of  butter  through  it  with  a fork,  pepper  and  salt  it, 
and  make  into  a flat  mound  on  a platter.  Strain  the  liquor  from 
the  mutton,  add  to  it  half  a cup  of  stewed  and  strained  tomato, 
thicken  with  browned  flour  and  boil  up  sharply,  settle  the  meat  on 
the  macaroni,  and  pour  the  sauce  over  both. 


Spinach. 

Wash  and  pick  off  the  leaves  ; put  them  in  a saucepan  with- 
out water  and  set  in  a kettle  of  boiling  water.  Cook  slowly  for 


420 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


fifteen  minutevS,  then  boil  for  twenty  more.  Turn  into  a colander, 
drain,  and  rub  through  the  holes  into  a bowl.  Return  to  the  sauce- 
pan and  outer  vessel  of  boiling  water,  add  a tablespoonful  of  butter, 
a little  salt  and  pepper,  half  a teaspooiiful  of  sugar  and  three 
tablespoonfuls  of  milk.  Heat  and  beat  to  a cream.  Heap  on 
buttered  rounds  of  toast,  with  a slice  of  hard-boiled  egg  on  each. 


Dundee  Haggis. 

One  quart  of  milk ; one  cup  of  oatmeal,  soaked  over  night  in 
cold  water  ; one  heaping  cupful  of  cold  veal,  mutton  or  poultry  ; 
one  cup  of  broth  from  your  stewed  mutton  ; half  a cupful  of 
bread-crumbs ; one  tablespoonful  of  butter  ; three  beaten  eggs ; 
pepper  and  salt. 

Stir  the  skimmed  and  strained  gravy  into  soaked  oatmeal,  season, 
and  cook  in  a farina-kettle  for  an  hour  before  adding  the  milk  in 
which  the  bread-crumbs  must  have  been  soaked  ; cook  half  an  hour, 
stirring  often,  and  turn  the  mixture  into  a bowl  to  get  perfectly 
cold ; then  beat  in  the  butter,  melted,  the  chopped  meat,  the  beaten 
eggs,  and  mix  thoroughly  ; pour  into  a buttered  mold,  and  boil  or 
steam  for  an  hour  and  a half.  If  you  have  the  giblets  of  poultry, 
or  part  of  a calPs  or  lamb’s  liver,  you  may  substitute  these  for  the 
minced  meat.  Turn  out  and  eat  hot. 

Rice  Cream. 

One  scant  cup  of  rice  ; one  heaping  cup  of  sugar  ; one  quart  of 
milk  ; one-third  package  of  gelatine  ; one  pint  of  whipped  cream  ; 
teaspoonful  of  bitter  almond  or  vanilla  essence. 

Boil  the  rice  tender,  drain  off  the  water  and  stir  the  rice  into 
the  scalding  milk  with  the  sugar ; bring  to  a boil,  and  put  in  the 
gelatine  soaked  soft  in  enough  cold  water  to  cover  it.  When  this 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


421 


Has  dissolved,  strain  the  mixture  through  a fine  colander,  and  beat 
for  three  minutes  with  tlie  “ Dover.”  Flavor,  and  set  aside  until 
cold,  when  whip  in  the  stiffened  cream.  Let  it  form  in  a wet  mold ; 
keep  it  on  ice  until  wanted.  It  is  very  good. 


No.  32. 

BREAKFAST. 

Oranges. 

Pork  Chops,  with  Tomato  Sauce. 

Crumb  Griddle  Cakes.  Maple  Syrup. 

Toast.  Brown  Bread. 

Meringued  Cafe  au  lait. 

Tea, 


Oranges. 

As  a preparatory  course  to  the  heavier  business  of  breakfast, 
ripe,  fresh  oranges  are  held  in  high  esteem.  They  are  served  whole, 
and  eaten  as  individual  taste  dictates,  either  pared,  then  divided 
into  lobes,  which  are  eaten  with  or  without  sugar,  or  cut  in  half, 
without  paring,  and  scooped  from  the  shells  with  a spoon.  Finger 
bowls  and  doilies  are  set  on  with  them,  and  every  vestige  of  this 
course  is  removed  before  the  next  is  brought  in. 


Pork  Chops  with  Tomato  Saucp:. 

Trim  neatly,  and  beat  them  flat  with  a potato  beetle.  Heat  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter  in  a frying-pan,  and  drop  into  it  when  it 
hisses,  half  a dozen  slices  of  onion.  Lay  in  the  chops  and  fry 
slowly  for  five  minutes.  Then  increase  the  heat  until  they  are 


422 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


nicely  browned.  Take  them  ujd  and  lay  in  a liot-water  dish ; strain 
the  onion  out  of  the  gravy.  Return  the  latter  to  the  frying-pan, 
add  four  tablespoon  fills  of  boiling  water,  a tablespoonfnl  of  butter 
cut  up  in  two  of  browned  flour,  pepper,  salt,  half  a teaspoon fnl  of 
sugar,  and  half  a eiip  of  strained  juice  from  a can  of  tomatoes. 
Boil  up  sharply,  and  pour  over  the  chops. 


Crumb  Griddle  Cakes. 

One  pint  of  hot  milk,  and  the  same  of  hot  water ; two  heaping 
cups  of  fine,  dry  crumbs  ; half  a cupful  of  prepared  flour  ; one  table- 
spoonful  of  molasses,  and  one  of  melted  butter ; two  eggs  ; one 
tablespoonful  of  salt. 

Soak  the  crumbs  in  the  milk  and  water,  and  stir  over  the  fire 
until  they  are  smoking  hot,  when  set  them  aside  to  cool.  They 
should  be  just  lukewarm  when  you  beat  in  the  butter,  molasses 
and  salt,  the  eggs  whipped  light,  finally  the  flour.  Try  a spoonful 
on  a hot  griddle,  and  should  it  stick,  add  a little  more  flour.  But 
do  not  get  them  stiff.  They  should  be  so  tender  as  almost  to  melt 
in  the  mouth. 


Meringued  Cafe  au  lait. 

Strain  a quart  of  strong,  clear  coffee  through  a eloth  into  the 
urn  ; add  three  cups  of  boiling  milk,  also  strained  to  get  rid  of  the 
“ skin.’’  Have  ready  in  a pitcher  or  bowl  the  whites  of  two  eggs 
whipped  to  a meringue,  then  beaten  into  a heaping  cupful  of  whipped 
cream  with  a teaspoonful  of  sugar.  Pour  the  coffee  into  hot  cups 
and  lay  a dessertspoonful  of  the  meringued  cream  on  the  surface  of 
each  in  serving  it. 


423 


AUTUMN  BILLS  Of  FARE. 

LUNCHEON, 

Smoked  Salmon  au  Jeunnot, 

Potato  Cakes  au  gratin.  Graham  Bread. 

Butter.  Pickles. 

Thickened  Milk. 


Smoked  Salmon  au  Jeannot, 

Cut  a pound  of  smoked  salmon  into  strips  as  long  as  your  mid- 
dle finger  and  twice  as  wide.  Soak  them  in  cold  water  for  two  hours, 
then  put  over  the  fire  in  a saucepan.  Cover  with  more  cold  water, 
and  bring  to  a gentle  boil.  Have  ready  in  another  saucepan  a cup- 
ful of  beef  or  veal  broth,  in  which  half  an  onion  has  been  boiled 
tender,  then  strained  out.  Add  to  the  broth  while  hot,  a table- 
spoonful  of  catsup,  walnut,  tomato  or  mushroom,  or  Chili  sauce,” 
another  of  vinegar,  a small  teaspoonful  of  made  mustard  and  a pinch 
of  cayenne.  Drain  the  water  Irom  the  salmon,  wipe  each  piece  and 
butter  it  well,  laying  it  on  a hot  dish  as  you  do  so.  When  all  are 
buttered,  put  them  carefully  into  the  hot  gravy,  cover,  and  set  the 
saucepan  where  it  will  simmer,  but  not  boil,  for  ten  minutes.  Lay 
the  salmon  in  rows  on  a hot  dish,  cover  with  the  gravy,  and  serve. 
Send  around  heated  crackers  and  butter  with  it. 


Potato  Cakes  au  gratin. 

Rub  cold  mashed  potatoes  to  a paste  with  a little  milk  and  the 
yolk  of  an  egg.  Flour  your  hands  and  make  into  small  flat  cakes. 
Let  these  get  cold  and  stiff,  and  just  before  cooking  sift  dry  crumbs 
all  over  them.  Set  in  a quick  oven  to  brown  lightly.  Eat  hot. 


424 


housp:  and  piome. 

Thickened  Milk. 


One  quart  of  boiling  milk  ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour ; 
one  tPvblespoouful  of  butter;  one  teaspoouful  of  salt. 

Sift  the  salt  into  the  flour,  wet  this  to  a soft  dough  with  cold 
water,  and  stir  it  into  the  hot  milk.  Cook,  stirring  well,  for  ten 
minutes,  put  in  the  butter,  cook  five  minutes  longer,  and  pour  into  a 
deep  dish.  It  should  be  neither  gruel  nor  paste,  but  something 
between  the  two.  Eat  with  sugar  and  cream. 


DINNER. 

Rabbit  Soup. 

Oyster  Salad.  Steamed  Turkey. 

Cranberry  Sauce.  Scalloped  Cabbage.  Stewed  Squash. 
M3^rtle’s  Charlotte.  Fruit.  Coffee. 


Rabbit  Soup. 

A pair  of  wild  rabbits,  skinned,  cleaned  and  jointed,  as  for  fric- 
assee ; half  a pound  of  fat  salt  pork,  chopped  fine ; a small  onion, 
sliced ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  cut  up  in  three  of  browned 
flour;  juice  of  a lemon  ; as  much  cayenne  as  will  lie  easily  put 
on  a silver  half-dime ; dripping  for  frying ; four  quarts  of  cold 
water. 

Heat  the  dripping  to  hissing  in  the  frying-pan ; fry  the  onion 
in  it  until  it  colors  nicely,  then  the  jointed  rabbits;  take  the  meat 
out  with  a split  spoon ; put  into  a sonp  kettle ; cover  with  the 
chopped  pork  ; pour  in  the  water  and  cook  slowly  until  the  meat 
has  fallen  from  the  bones  ; season  with  pepper,  and,  if  needed,  more 
salt,  and  set  away  until  next  day.  Remove  the  fat  from  the  top  of 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


425 


tie  liquor;  strain  the  latter,  rejecting  bones,  and  squeezing  the 
nourishment  out  of  the  meat ; heat  to  boiling  ; skim  off  the  floating 
scum  ; stir  in  the  butter  and  flour ; cook  five  minutes  ; add  the 
lemon-juice,  and  pour  out.  Some  think  this  game  soup  improved 
when  a glass  of  wine  goes  in  at  the  last.  It  is  an  excellent  use  to 
which  to  put  tough  rabbits. 


Oyster  Salad. 

Cut  a quart  of  oysters  into  bits ; mix  with  them  two-thirds  as 
much  blanched,  tender  celery  (also  cut,  not  chopped  to  pieces),  as 
you  have  oysters  ; put  into  a glass  dish  ; pour  over  it  a good  may- 
onnaise dressing,  and  serve  immediately.  Until  the  oysters  and 
celery  are  mixed,  keep  both  in  a very  cold  place.  This  salad  is 
delicious,  if  eaten  as  soon  as  it  is  made. 


Steamed  Turkey. 

Many  a tough  gobbler  and  hen-mother,  whose  coming-out  pre- 
ceded the  time  of  their  departure  by  several  seasons,  might  have 
won  toleration  on  their  last  exhibition-day  had  they  been  steamed, 
instead  of  roasted.  Prepare  the  fowl  by  stuffing  in  the  usual  way 
with  a good  dressing  of  forcemeat.  Bind  the  legs  and  wings  down 
to  the  body  with  tape,  put  the  turkey  in  the  steamer,  shut  up 
closely  and  cook  slowly  fifteen  minutes  to  the  pound.  Test  then 
with  a fork  to  make  sure  it  is  tender,  undo  the  tapes  and  cover  to 
keep  hot,  while  you  add  to  the  drippings  a cup  of  hot  milk  in  which 
have  been  stirred  a great  spoonful  of  flour  wet  with  milk,  salt  and 
pepper,  and,  when  you  have  stirred  it  to  a brisk  boil,  the  yolks  of  two 
raw  eggs,  beaten  light,  and  those  of  two  hard-boiled,  minced  fine. 
Cook  two  minutes,  stirrinsf  all  the  while,  pour  a few  spoonfuls  over 


426 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


the  breast  of  the  turkey,  the  rest  into  a sauce-boat.  A little  chopped 
parsley  improves  the  sauce  ; half  a cau  of  minced  mushrooms  makes 
it  still  better. 


Cranberry  Sauce. 

Pick  over  and  wash  a quart  of  cranberries  ; add  a little  water, 
' — about  half  a cupful — to  keep  them  from  burning,  and  cook  until 
they  are  broken  to  pieces,  stirring  up  well  from  the  bottom  every 
few  minutes,  until  they  begin  to  burst.  When  they  are  done — not 
until  then — stir  in  two  even  cups  of  white  sugar ; take  from  the 
fire  as  soon  as  it  is  dissolved;  and  strain  through  mosquito-netting 
into  a wet  mold.  Put  on  ice  until  firm. 


Scalloped  Cabbage. 

Boil  a firm  cabbage  in  two  waters.  Drain  and  press,  and  let  it 
get  perfectly  cold.  Then  mince  fine,  add  two  tablespoonfuls  of 
melted  butter,  two  eggs  well  beaten,  three  tablespoonfuls  of  cream 
or  milk,  pepper  and  salt  to  your  fancy.  Put  into  a buttered  bake- 
dish,  sift  fine  crumbs  on  top,  and  bake,  covered,  half  an  hour,  then 
brown  delicately. 


Stewed  Squash. 

Cut  off  the  outer  shell,  seed,  cut  small  and  cook  tender  in  boil- 
ing water,  slightly  salt.  Drain  and  rub  through  a colander  into 
a saucepan,  stir  in  a generous  tablespoonful  of  butter  rubbed  in 
one  of  flour,  season  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  cook  five  minutes, 
beating  well  at  the  last  with  a wooden  spoon.  Serve  in  a hot  deep 
dish. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Myrtle’s  Charlotte. 


427 


Soak  a quarter  of  a package  of  gelatine  two  hours  in  a cup  of 
milk  ; put  over  the  fire  in  a farina-kettle,  and  let  it  get  scalding  hot. 
Strain  and  cool,  but  not  until  it  hardens.  To  a quart  of  whipped 
cream  add  the  whipped  whites  of  four  eggs  with  a cup  of  powdered 
sugar.  Now,  mix  in  the  cooled  gelatine  with  your  egg-beater,  and 
flavor  with  a teaspoonful  of  bitter  almond  essence.  Line  a glass 
dish  with  slices  of  sponge-cake  or  with  “ lady  fingers,”  fill  wdth  the 
frothed  mixture,  and  set  in  the  refrigerator  until  wanted.  A simple 
and  popular  dessert. 


No.  33. 

BREAKFAST. 

Mush  and  Milk.  Sausages.  Baked  Potatoes. 

Pancakes  (sugared).  Bread — Brown  and  White. 

Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Mush  and  Milk. 

Scald  a heaping  cup  of  cornmeal  with  a pint  of  boiling  water, 
and  set  it  in  a cool  place  over  night.  In  the  morning  put  it  into  a 
farina-kettle  with  a pint  of  fresh  milk  ; mash  out  the  lumps,  salt  to 
taste,  and  cook  for  half  an  hour,  or  longer,  after  it  reaches  the  boil. 
Beat  hard,  and  turn  into  a deep  dish.  Eat  with  cream  and  sugar. 


Sausages. 

Make  the  sausage-meat  into  small  cakes,  patting  them  firmly 
into  shape.  Lay  in  a frying-pan,  add  half  a cup  of  cold  water,  and 
let  them  simmer  until  the  water  is  boiled  awav  and  tlie  sausae'es 


428 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


cooked  to  a fine  brown.  This  is  a great  iinprovenient  upon  the 
usual  method  of  frying  sausages  in  their  own  fat.  Link-sansages 
cooked  in  the  same  way  do  not  burst  or  crack. 


Pancakes  (sugared). 

Two  cups  of  prepared  flour ; two  cups  of  milk  ; one  table- 
spoonful of  butter ; two  eggs  ; lard  for  frying ; powdered  sugar. 

Whip  the  eggs  light,  mix  with  the  milk,  add  the  flour  and  butter, 
and  beat  one  minute.  Heat  an  even  tablespoonful  of  lard  in  a frying- 
pan,  and  when  it  hisses,  pour  in  enough  batter  to  cover  the  bottom 
thinly,  cook  quickly,  and,  when  the  batter  is  “ set,”  turn  dexterously 
with  a spatula,  unless  you  have  practice  in  tossing  pancakes. 
Sprinkle  with  sugar,  roll  up  smoothly,  sift  more  sugar  on  the  roll, 
and  send  to  the  table  hot. 


LUNCHEON. 

Italian  Rice  Pudding.  Tomato  Sauce.  Fried  Bread. 

Crackers.  Cheese.  Olives. 

Apple  Charlotte. 

Italian  Rice  Pudding. 

To  two  cups  of  boiled  rice  add  a cupful  of  hot  milk,  in  which 
has  been  stirred  a bit  of  soda  the  size  of  a pea,  and  a dessertspoon- 
ful of  corn-starch.  Mix  well,  and  stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  melted 
butter  and  two  well-beaten  eggs.  Add  next  a cupful  of  minced  veal, 
chicken,  turkey,  duck  or  mutton  ; moisten  with  three  tablespoon- 
fnls  of  highly  seasoned  gravy,  stir  all  thoroughly,  put  into  a 
buttered  mold,  and  bake,  covered,  in  a baking-pan  of  hot  water  for 
an  hour.  Turn  out  on  a hot  flat  dish,  and  pass  tomato  sauce 
with  it. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE.  429 

Tomato  Sauoe. 

To  half  a can  of  tomatoes  allow  half  an  onion  sliced.  Stew  both 
together  for  half  an  hour,  rub  through  a colander  and  return  to  the 
saucepan  with  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  a teaspoonful  of 
corn-starch,  half  a teaspoonful  of  sugar,  pepper  and  salt  to  your 
fancy.  Boil  one  minute,  and  serve  in  a gravy  dish. 


Fried  Bread. 

Cut  the  crust  from  slices  of  stale  bread ; dip  each  in  a thin  bat- 
ter made  of  a cup  of  milk,  two  eggs  and  a heaping  tablespoonful  of 
flour  salted  slightly,  and  fry  in  lard  or  clarified  dripping  to  a yel- 
^ low-brown.  Drain  off  the  fat  from  each  piece  as  you  take  it  up. 
Serve  hot. 


Apple  Charlotte. 

Stew  a dozen  pared,  cored  and  sliced  tart  apples  soft ; sweeten 
well  and  rub  through  a colander ; set  again  over  the  fire  while  you 
stir  in  the  yolks  of  three  eggs.  As  soon  as  it  is  hot  (it  must  not 
boil)  turn  Into  a bowl  to  cool.  When  cold,  beat  in  the  whites  of  the 
eggs  mixed  with  a tablespoonful  of  powdered  sugar.  Line  a glass 
dish  with  sliced  sponge  cake  or  lady  fingers,  pile  the  apple  within 
it,  and  cover  with  macaroons  neatly  fitted  together.  Set  on  ice 
until  wanted. 


DINNER, 


Barley  Broth. 
Pot-Roast  of  Beef. 

Amber  Pudding. 


Buttered  Lobster. 

Potato  Souffle.  Pea  Cakes. 

Fruit.  Black  Coffee. 


430 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Barley  Broth. 

Three  pounds  of  coarse  muttou,  or  veal,  or  a “ scrag  ” of  mutton 
and  a kuuckle  of  veal ; three  quarts  of  water ; half  an  oiiiou,  sliced 
and  fried  to  a good  brown  ; one  carrot ; pepper  and  salt ; one  cupful 
of  pearl  barley,  soaked  three  hours  in  water. 

Put  the  meat,  cut  up  small  and  the  bones  broken,  over  the  fire 
with  the  onion  and  cold  water ; cook  slowly  for  five  hours,  season, 
and  set  away  until  next  day.  Skim  off  the  fat,  strain  out  bones  and 
meat,  put  the  liquor  into  a pot  with  the  soaked  and  strained  barley 
and  the  carrot  cut  into  dice.  Simmer  one  hour,  and  serve. 


Buttered  Lobster. 

Empty  a can  of  lobster  some  hours  before  you  wish  to  use  it,  and 
keep  in  a cold  place.  To  prepare  it,  break  the  meat  into  coarse 
bits,  avoiding  the  mincemeat  or  “ stringy  ” look  that  disfigures  much 
salad  and  many  e^itrees.  Put  a clean  saucepan  on  the  range  with 
three  large  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  as  much  cayenne  pepper  as  will 
lie  on  the  point  of  a pen-knife,  the  juice  and  a quarter  of  the  grated 
peel  of  a large  lemon.  When  the  mixture  simmers,  put  in  the  lob- 
ster, with  a tablespoonful  of  fine  crumbs,  and  let  it  get  smoking 
hot,  stirring  it  cautiously  with  a silver  fork  to  prevent  scorching. 
Fill  a buttered  bake  dish  or  scallop-shells  with  this,  strew  fine 
crumbs  on  top,  stick  minute  bits  of  butter  in  them,  and  brown 
lightly  in  a quick  oven.  Send  heated  crackers  and  sliced  lemon 
around  with  this  dish. 


Pot-Roast  of  Beef. 


Lay  a fillet  or  rib-roast,  from  which  the  bones  have  been  taken, 
and  which  is  then  skewered  into  a round,  in  a broad,  deep  pot.  Pour 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OP  FARE. 


431 


in  a cupful  of  boiling  water ; add  two  slices  (no  more)  of  onion,  cover 
closely,  and  cook  gently  ten  minutes  to  the  pound.  Then  transfer 
to  a dripping-pan,  rub  over  with  butter,  dredge  with  flour,  and  brown 
in  a brisk  oven.  Fifteen  minutes  should  do  this.  Strain  and  cool 
the  gravy  left  in  the  pot ; take  off  the  fat,  put  the  gravy  into  a 
frying-pan,  pepper,  salt,  and  thicken  with  a heaping  tablespoonful  of 
browned  flour.  Boil  up  well  and  serve  in  a gravy-boat. 

Potato  Souffle. 

Add  to  a cupful  of  cold  mashed  potato  half  a cupful  of  milk, 
worked  in  gradually ; mash  out  all  lumps  and  beat  very  smooth. 
Whip  three  eggs  and  beat  them  into  the  potato  with  pepper  and 
salt.  Heat  two  tablespoonfuls  of  nice  dripping  in  a frying-pan, 
pour  in  the  potato,  shake,  as  it  cooks,  to  keep  it  clear  of  the  bottom, 
and  when  “ set  ” all  over,  turn  it  into  a hot  dish  as  you  would  an 
omelette.  Serve  and  eat  at  once. 


Pea  Cakes. 

Empty  the  peas  from  the  can,  drain,  and  let  them  lie  for  half  an 
hour  in  cold  salted  water.  Cook  tender  in  boiling  water,  slightly 
salt,  rub  while  hot  through  a colander,  work  in  a teaspoonful  of 
butter,  pepper  and  salt  to  your  liking,  and  let  them  cool.  When 
ready  to  cook  them,  beat  up  two  eggs,  soften  the  peas  with  a cupful 
of  milk,  worked  in  by  degrees,  add  a tablespoonful  of  prepared  flour 
to  hold  the  batter  together,  and  fry  as  you  would  griddle-cakes. 
Send  to  table  hot. 


Amber  Pudding. 

One  cup  of  butter ; two  cups  of  sugar ; yolks  of  six  eggs,  and 
the  whites  of  eight;  juice  and  grated  rind  of  two  lemons  ; half  a 
glass  of  brandy ; half  a nutmeg. 


432 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  beat  in  the  yolks,  the  lemon, 
nutmeg  and  brandy,  lastly,  the  whites  of  four  eggs.  Whip  very 
light  and  bake  in  open  shells  of  nice  pastry.  As  soon  as  the  mix- 
ture has  set  and  a skin  formed  on  the  top,  spread  cpiickly,  without 
taking  the  puddings  from  the  oven,  with  meringue  made  of  the 
frothed  whites  of  four  eggs,  two  tablespoon  fills  of  sugar,  and  juice 
of  half  a lemon.  Shut  np  again  until  the  meringue  begins  to 
color.  Eat  cold. 

No.  34. 

BREAKFAST. 

Hominy  Porridge.  Fried  Liver.  White  Scones. 

Chopped  Potatoes.  Boiled  Eggs. 

Toast.  Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Fried  Liver. 

Wash  well ; slice,  lay  in  cold  salted  water  to  draw  out  the  blood  ; 
wipe  dry,  salt,  pepper,  coat  each  piece  with  beaten  egg,  and  roll  in 
cracker-crumbs.  Try  out  slices  of  very  fat  salt  pork  in  a frying- 
pan  in  which  is  a sliced  onion.  Strain  the  fat,  return  to  the  pan 
with  a great  spoonful  of  lard  and  fry  the  liver,  a few  pieces  at  a 
time,  and  not  too  fast.  Drain  off  the  grease  before  dishing. 


White  Scones. 

* One  quart  of  prepared  flour  ; a pint  of  milk ; two  liberal  table- 
spoonfuls  of  lard  ; a teaspoonfnl  of  salt  sifted  with  flour. 

Chop  the  lard  into  the  salted  flour,  wet  with  the  milk  ; roll  out 
thin,  cut  into  biscuits,  and  roll  each  of  these  into  thinner  cakes 
twice  as  large.  Prick  all  over  with  a fork,  bake  quickly,  butter  and 
leave  in  the  oven  a minute  longer.  Pile  up  on  a plate. 


433 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Chopped  Potatoes. 

Chop  cold  Irish  and  sweet  potatoes  together.  Put  some  nice 
dripping  into  a frying  pan,  heat,  pepper  and  salt  it,  put  in  the 
potatoes,  and  shake  and  toss  lightly,  not  to  break  them,  until 
smoking  hot. 


Boiled  Eggs. 

When  possible,  boil  them  on  the  table.  If  you  have  no  egg- 
boiler,  put  the  eggs  into  a tin  pail  of  boiling  water  in  the  kitchen, 
fit  on  a close  top,  wrap  in  a napkin,  and  send  thus  to  the  dining- 
room. In  six  minutes,  if  the  water  was  boiling  when  they  went  in, 
they  will  be  of  custardy  consistency  throughout,  and  far  more 
digestible  than  when  suffered  to  cook  on  the  fire. 


LUNCHEON. 

Home-Made  Sausage.  Celery  and  Sardine  Salad. 

Fried  Bananas.  Bread  and  Butter.  Crackers  and  Cheese. 

Soft  Gingerbread.  Chocolate. 

Home-Made  Sausage. 

One-third  cold  roast  beef ; two-thirds  corned  ham  or  fresh  pork^ 
roasted  or  boiled ; a little  powdered  sage  and  sweet  marjoram  ; pepper 
and  salt  to  your  liking;  chop  all  together  fine;  make  into  flat 
cakes ; roll  in  flour,  and  fry  in  peppered  and  salted  lard. 


Celery  and  Sardine  Salad. 

Cut  the  celery  into  inch-lengths,  season  lightly  with  pepper, 
salt  and  vinegar ; heap  on  a cold,  flat  dish,  and  lay  sardines  about 
the  base  of  the  pile.  Pour  a good  mayonnaise  dressing  over  all. 


434 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Soft  Gingerbread. 


One  cup  of  butter ; one  cup  of  milk  ; one  cup  of  brown  sugar ; 
one  cup  of  molasses  ; five  cupfuls  of  sifted  flour  ; a teaspoon ful  of 
mixed  cinnamon  and  mace  ; a heaping  tablespoonful  of  ground 
ginger ; a teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  with  the  flour ; four  eggs. 

Warm  molasses,  butter,  sugar  and  spices  slightly  together,  and 
stir  them  to  a yellow-brown  cream  ; add  the  milk,  the  beaten  eggs, 
the  flour ; whip  up  well  and  bake  in  two  large,  shallow  pans.  Eat 
fresh,  with  cheese  and  chocolate. 


DINNER. 

Vegetable  Soup. 

Broiled  Bluefish.  Veal  and  Ham  Pie.  Scalloped  Squash. 
Sweet  Potatoes  au  gratin.  Rice  and  Peach  Pudding. 
Cream  Sauce.  Coffee. 


Vegetable  Soup. 

Three  pounds  of  coarse  beef,  minced ; three  quarts  of  cold 
water ; two  carrots ; two  turnips  ; one  onion,  minced ; three  stalks 
of  celery ; can  of  tomatoes  ; quarter  of  a cabbage  ; one  root  of 
salsify ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  chopped  parsley  ; pepper  and  salt ; a 
teaspoonful  of  sugar. 

Put  beef  and  water  together  and  bring  slowly  to  a boil.  Simmer 
gently  for  four  hours.  Pepper  and  salt,  and  set  away  meat  and 
liquor  together  until  next  day.  Take  off  the  fat  and  strain  out  the 
meat.  Pare  and  cut  turnips,  carrots,  celery  and  salsify  into  dice  of 
uniform  size.  Shred  the  cabbage,  mince  the  onion.  Put  all  into  a 
pot,  cover  with  boiling  salted  water,  drop  in  a bit  of  soda  no  larger 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


435 


than  a Lima  bean,  and  cook  gently  twenty  minutes.  Drain  well, 
and  turn  the  vegetables  into  the  soup-stock.  Rub  the  tomatoes 
through  a colander  and  add  them  with  the  parsley.  Cook  half  an 
hour,  keeping  the  contents  of  the  pot  at  a slow,  steady  boil  all  the 
time ; put  in  the  sugar  and  pour  into  the  tureen. 


Broiled  Bluefish. 

Split  down  the  back,  clean,  and  wash  thoroughly  with  vinegar 
and  water.  Broil  over  a clear,  hot  fire.  When  done,  rub  all  over 
with  butter,  pepper  and  salt,  and  serve  on  a hot-water  dish.  For 
sauce,  whip  a tablespoonful  of  butter  to  a cream  with  a teaspoonful 
of  anchovy-paste,  a teaspoonful  of  finely  cut  parsley,  and  the  juice 
of  half  a lemon. 


Veal  and  Ham  Pie. 

Cut  cold  cooked  veal  and  half  as  much  corned  ham,  also  boiled 
and  cold,  into  neat  dice,  season  with  pepper,  a little  nutmeg,  sweet 
herbs,  and  add  a handful  of  chopped  mushrooms.  Heat  a cupful  of 
gravy  in  a saucepan,  season  well,  thicken  with  browned  flour,  add  a 
great  spoonful  of  tomato  catsup,  put  in  the  meat,  bring  to  a boil,  stir 
in  the  beaten  yolks  of  two  eggs,  and  take  from  the  fire.  ■ Fill  a deep 
bake-dish  with  this,  cover  the  surface  with  sliced  hard-boiled  eggs, 
lay  a good  crust  over  all ; cut  a slit  in  the  center  and  bake  to  a fine 
yellow-brown.  Wash  over  with  white  of  egg,  shut  up  in  the  oven 
for  one  minute,  and  serve. 

Scalloped  Squash. 

Two  cups  of  boiled  squash,  run  through  a colander,  and  then 
left  to  cool ; two  eggs  ; a tablespoonful  of  melted  butter ; half  a cup 
of  milk  ; pepper  and  salt ; half  a cup  of  bread  crumbs. 


43^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Beat  eggs,  butter,  milk  and  squash  light,  season,  pour  into  a 
buttered  bake-dish,  sift  the  crumbs  over  it,  and  bake,  covered,  half 
an  hour  and  then  brown  lightly.  Send  to  table  in  the  pudding 
dish.  Never  throw  away  the  remnant  of  a dish  of  squash  left  after 
dinner.  It  can  always  be  utilized  as  above.  Or,  if  you  have  only 
a few  spoonfuls,  beat  in  an  egg,  a half  cupful  of  milk,  pepper,  salt 
and  about  three  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour,  just  enough  for 
soft  batter,  and  bake  as  you  would  griddle  cakes. 


Sweet  PotatoEvS  au  gratin. 

Boil,  peel  and  slice  a quarter  of  an  inch  thick.  Fill  a buttered 
pudding-dish  with  layers  of  the  slices  buttered,  salted  and  peppered. 
Unless  the  potatoes  are  very  sweet,  sprinkle  a little  sugar  over 
each  stratum.  Sift  fine  crumbs  on  the  top,  stick  tiny  bits  of 
butter  in  them  and  bake,  covered,  until  hot  through,  then  brown 
delicately. 


Rice  and  Peach  Pudding. 

Boil  a cupful  of  rice  in  plenty  of  salted  water,  until  the  grains 
are  tender,  but  not  until  you  have  a paste.  Shake  the  kettle  from 
time  to  time,  and  do  not  touch  the  rice  with  a spoon.  Drain  off  all 
the  water ; set  the  inner  farina-kettle  on  the  side  of  the  range  until 
the  rice  is  dry.  Have  ready  in  a bowl  three  eggs  beaten  light,  with 
a cupful  of  sugar,  and  one  of  milk.  Mix  the  rice  up  well  with  this, 
using  a silver  fork  for  the  purpose,  not  to  mash  or  break  the  grains. 
Drain  the  liquor  from  a can  of  peaches,  put  a layer  of  rice  in  a 
buttered  mold ; cover  with  peaches  laid  in  evenly ; more  rice,  etc., 
until  the  materials  are  used  up.  Cover  the  mold,  and  boil  steadily 
for  an  hour  and  a half.  Turn  out,  and  eat  with  cream  sauce.  You 
can  make  this  of  evaporated  peaches  if  you  like. 


437 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Cream  Sauce. 

A cup  of  milk  and  oue  of  cream  (if  ‘you  can  get  it,  if  not  two 
cups  of  milk)  ; a cup  of  sugar ; whites  of  two  eggs  (the  yolks  of 
which  went  into  your  meat  pie)  ; nutmeg  or  cinnamon  to  taste ; one 
tablespoonful  of  corn-starch,  wet  with  cold  milk  ; vanilla,  or  bit- 
ter almond-essence. 

Scald  the  milk,  add  sugar  and  corn-starch,  stir  three  minutes, 
and  put  in  the  stiffened  whites,  spices  and  flavoring.  Keep  hot,  but 
not  boiling,  until  you  are  ready  for  it,  by  setting  it  in  a vessel  of  hot 
water. 

No.  35. 

BREAKFAST. 

Brewis.  Clam  Fritters. 

Risen  Corn  Bread.  Stewed  Sweet  Potatoes. 

Toast.  Boiled  Eggs. 

'Tea.  Coffee.  Fruit. 


Brewis. 

One  cupful  of  very  fine,  dry  crumbs — those  made  from  crusts 
and  old  slices  of  bread  dried  in  the  oven,  then  crushed  with  a roll- 
ing-pin, are  the  best ; one  pint  of  hot  milk,  and  half  as  much 
boiling  water ; one  full  teaspoonful  of  butter,  and  a scant  one  of 
salt ; white  of  an  egg,  beaten  light. 

Soak  the  crumbs  in  the  boiling  water  ten  minutes,  and  stir  into 
the  salted  milk.  Simmer  together  five  minutes,  add  the  butter,  stir 
for  two  minutes,  cover,  and  leave  on  the  fire  three  minutes  longer. 
Take  from  the  stove,  beat  in  the  whipped  whites,  and  send  to  the 
table  in  a deep  dish.  Eat  with  cream  and  sugar. 


43^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Clam  Fritters. 

Twenty-five  claiiLS,  chopped  fine  ; one  cup  of  milk  with  a bit  of 
soda  no  larger  than  a pea,  stirred  in  ; one  heaping  cupful  of  prepared 
flour ; one  teaspoonful — even — of  salt,  and  a little  pepper ; two  eggs. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  milk,  salt,  pepper,  flour,  lastly  the  clams. 
Mix  thoroughly ; have  plenty  of  fat  or  dripping  in  a kettle,  and 
drop  in  great  spoonfuls  of  the  batter.  When  done,  take  out  with 
a split  spoon,  shake  off  the  fat,  and  serve  on  a hot  dish. 


Risen  Corn  Bread. 

Two  cups  of  white  corn  meal,  and  one  of  flour;  four  cups  of 
milk ; one  cup  of  boiling  water ; a cupful  of  freshly  mashed  potato, 
hot ; a tablespoonful  of  sugar,  and  half  as  much  butter  or  lard ; a 
heaping  teaspoonful  of  salt ; half  a cake  of  compressed  yeast ; tiny 
bit  of  soda  in  the  milk. 

Rub  the  potatoes  through  a colander.  While  hot,  work  in  but- 
ter, sugar,  salt,  and  a cupful  of  flour  alternately  with  two  of  milk. 
Scald  the  meal  with  the  hot  water,  and  add  next.  Beat  two  minutes, 
and  put  in  the  yeast  while  the  batter  is  blood-warm.  Let  it  stand 
all  night  in  a covered  bowl.  In  the  morning  work  in  the  rest  of 
the  milk,  and  if  needed,  flour  enough  to  make  a soft  manageable 
dough.  Knead  lightly,  make  into  small  loaves  that  will  fit  pate- 
pans,  let  them  rise  until  light,  perhaps  half  an  hour,  and  bake  in  a 
steady  oven  forty-five  minutes.  Keep  them  covered  until  they  have 
risen  to  full  height,  then,  brown. 


Stewed  Sweet  Potatoes. 

Cut  cold,  boiled  potatoes  into  dice.  For  a cupful  of  these  allow 
a heaping  tablcspoonful  of  nice  beef  or  poultry-dripping,  or  butter. 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


439 


Put  this  into  a frying-pan,  and  when  hot,  stir  and  toss  the  dice  in  it 
until  slightly  browned  and  well  glazed.  Have  ready  in  a saucepan 
a cupful  of  gravy  or  stock ; season  well,  thicken  with  browned  flour, 
empty  the  frying-pan  into  it,  and  draw  to  one  side  of  the  range  where 
it  cannot  cook  at  all,  but  will  keep  warm.  Leave  it  thus  for  five 
minutes,  and  turn  out  into  deep  covered  dish. 


LUNCHEON. 

Deviled  Ham.  Potato  Puff, 

Bread,  Butter  and  Pickles.  Baked  Apple  Charlotte. 

Chocolate.  Boiled  Chestnuts. 


Deviled  Ham. 

Cut  even  slices  of  corned  or  smoked  ham,  and  fry  in  a pan  until 
the  edges  begin  to  crisp.  Transfer  to  a chafing-dish,  and  keep  hot. 
Into  the  fat  left  in  the  pan  stir  half  a teaspoonful  of  made  mustard, 
a dash  of  cayenne  pepper,  half  a teaspoonful  of  tart  jelly,  and  three 
tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar. 

Bring  to  a quick  boil,  add  a great  spooiiful  of  sherry,  and  pour 
over  the  ham.  Serve  hot. 


Potato  Puff. 

Allow  a cupful  of  milk  to  two  of  finely  mashed  potatoes,  with 
two  eggs,  a teaspoonful  of  butter  or  dripping,  a little  salt  and  pep- 
per. Rub  the  butter  and  seasoning  into  the  potato,  then,  the  beaten 
eggs.  When  light  add  the  milk  gradually ; pour  into  a greased 
bake-dish,  and  set  in  a quick  oven,  covered,  until  it  has  puffed  up 
well,  then  brown  rapidly.  Serve  in  a bake-dish  at  once  before 
it  falls. 


440 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Baked  Apple  Charlottp:. 

Parc,  slice  and  chop  one  dozen  tart  pippins  or  greenings.  Cover 
the  bottom  of  a buttered  pudding-dish  with  fine  crumbs,  put  in  a 
thick  layer  of  apples ; sprinkle  plentifully  with  sugar,  lightly  with 
cinnamon;  another  stratum  of  crumbs,  and  so  on,  until  the  dish  is 
full.  The  topmost  layer  should  be  crumbs,  but,  before  adding  this, 
pour  in  half  a cupful  of  water  in  which  are  mixed  two  tablespoon- 
fuls of  sugar  and  one  of  brandy  ; cover  with  the  crumbs  ; invert  a 
deep  plate  over  it ; bake,  covered,  half  an  hour,  then  brown.  Eat 
with  sweet  sauce. 


Boiled  Chestnuts. 

Pick  out  those  which  are  free  from  worm-holes,  boil  twenty 
minutes  fast  in  hot  salted  water.  Drain,  turn  into  a deep  dish, 
and  stir  a lump  of  butter  the  size  of  a walnut  into  each  quart. 
Eat  hot. 

DINNER. 

Rabbit  Soup.  Browned  Beefs  Tongue. 

Curry  of  Tomatoes  and  Rice. 

Turnips  with  White  Sauce.  Boiled  Indian  Pudding. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Rabbit  Soup. 

One  large  rabbit ; one  small  onion,  sliced  and  fried ; quarter 
pound  of  salt  pork  ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  rice  ; three  quarts  of 
cold  water  ; parsley,  salt  and  pepper. 

Joint  the  rabbit,  put  into  the  soup  kettle  with  the  pork  and 
onion,  cover  with  the  water,  and  cook  slowly  for  two  hours ; strain 
out  meat  and  bones,  put  back  over  the  fire  with  the  rice  and  parsley ; 


AUTUMN  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


441 


simmer  until  the  rice  is  soft,  mince  the  meat  left  in  the  colander 
very  fine,  and  stir  into  the  soup.  Boil  up  and  pour  into  the  tureen. 
A good  soup. 


Browned  Beef’s  Tongue. 

Boil  a large  fresh  beef’s  tongue  gently  until  a skewer  passes  easily 
through  it ; have  ready  in  a saucepan  a pint  of  weak  stock,  or  some 
of  the  pot-liquor,  strained  and  skimmed,  to  which  3^ou  have  added  a 
tablespoonful  of  chopped  onion,  as  much  minced  parsley,  a couple 
of  stewed  tomatoes  strained,  a pinch  of  mace,  and  the  same  of  cloves  ; 
salt,  pepper,  and  a teaspoonful  of  sugar.  When  these  ingredients 
have  simmered  together  for  half  an  hour,  lay  the  tongue,  skinned 
and  trimmed  neatly,  in  a dripping-pan,  pour  the  gravy  over  it,  bake, 
covered,  and  basting  often,  one  hour  ; take  the  tongue  up  and  keep 
warm  while  you  thicken  the  gravy  with  browned  flour,  adding  a 
little  made  mustard ; pour  over  the  tongue. 


Curry  of  Tomatoes  and  Rice. 

One  can  of  tomatoes  ; three-quarters  of  a cup  of  rice  ; one  even 
tablespoonful  of  curry  powder  ; one  half  teaspoonful  of  salt ; two 
tablespoonfuls  of  butter  ; one  tablespoonful  of  sugar. 

Stir  the  curry-powder  and  sugar  into  the  tomatoes  ; put  a layer 
in  the  bottom  of  a pudding  dish  ; cover  with  raw  rice ; salt,  and 
drop  bits  of  butter  over  the  rice ; more  tomatoes ; more  rice,  salt 
and  butter,  until  the  materials  are  all  in.  The  uppermost  layer 
must  be  tomatoes.  Let  all  stand  together  two  hours.  Bake  in  a 
steady,  not  quick  oven,  forty  minutes,  covered,  then  brown.  Send 
to  table  in  the  pudding  dish. 


442 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Turnips  with  Whitp:  Sauce. 


Peel  and  slice  white  turnips  ; lay  in  cold  water  for  half  an  hour  ; 
put  over  the  fire  in  boiling,  salted  water,  and  cook  tender  ; drain, 
pepper  and  salt,  put  into  a deep  dish,  and  cover  with  a cupful  of 
drawn  butter,  made  with  milk  instead  of  water.  Serve  very  hot. 


Boiled  Indian  Pudding. 


Two  cups  of  Indian  meal ; two  cups  of  milk ; four  eggs  ; half 
cup  of  powdered  suet ; half  teaspoonful  of  cinnamon ; one  cup  of 
molasses  ; quarter  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  with  the  meal,  twice. 

Heat  the  milk  to  scalding,  add  the  suet  and  the  meal.  When 
the  suet  is  melted,  put  in  the  cinnamon  and  molasses,  and  let  all  get 
perfectly  cold.  Then  beat  in  the  eggs  hard,  and  pour  into  a 
buttered  mold  with  a tight  top.  Boil  steadily  four  hours.  Dip  the 
mold  into  cold  water  for  a minute  to  loosen  the  contents.  Turn  out 
on  a hot  dish,  and  eat  with  butter  and  sugar,  or  with  hard  sauce. 


The  Thanksgiving  Dinner. 

THANKSGIVING  dinner  should  be  the  visible  rendering 
of  thought  and  emotion.  In  clearing  away  the  idolatries 
I ^ of  Paganism,  we  hacked  so  fiercely  that  some  pretty, 
^ clinging  vines  of  custom  and  affection  fell  with  the  obnox- 

ious trunks.  One  of  these  was  the  religious  feast  in  its  season — 
the  tender  offerings  of  spring-time  ; the  grapes,  figs  and  mulberries, 
with  a host  of  other  summer  delicacies  ; the  corn,  wine  and  oil, 
which  were  sacrificed  with  song  and  dance  to  Ceres  in  the  bounteous 
autumn. 

It  is  meet  that  we  should  make  merry  and  be  glad  at  the 
Thrice-Blessed  Christmas-tide,  and  there  is  sweet  significance  in  the 
gathering  of  the  family,  young  and  old,  from  near  and  from  far, 
about  the  table  (or  altar),  laden  with  the  kindly  fruits  of  the  earth. 
“ All  this  hath  GOD  given  us  ! ” 

This  is  my  little  sermon-grace,  if  you  will  have  it — over  our 
Thanksgiving  table. 

The  table  is  not  furnished  as  our  grandams  loaded  theirs  in  the 
olden  time,  so  much  more  rude  than  ours.  The  board  no  longer 
groans,  literally  or  metaphorically,  under  its  burden  of  divers  meats, 
vegetables  and  sweets. 


443 


444 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Whatever  may  be  the  press  of  duties  that  on  other  days  drives 
the  business  of  eating  into  a gobble  and  a race,  dyspepsia  and 
apoplexy  hovering,  viewless,  but  very-present  ghosts  about  the 
dumb  devourers — take  time  on  Thanksgiving-day  to  dine.  If  I 
were  a religious  and  civil  dictator  for  this  one  day,  I would  ordain 
certain  ceremonies  in  cottage  as  in  palace,  as  hygienic  regulations 
and  means  of  grace. 

First,  then,  my  pale-faced  sister,  sorely  beaten  in  the  long  wrestle 
with  the  problem  how  to  make  fifty  cents  do  the  work  of  seventy- 
five,  resist  the  disposition  to  “ set  everything  on  at  once,  and  get  the 
bother  out  of  the  way.”  Lay  what  our  ecclesiastical  forefathers  used 
to  call  quaintly  and  aptly,  “ a fair  cloth,”  upon  the  table.  Adjust  a 
large  napkin,  or  carving-cloth,  over  the  spot  where  the  chief  dish  of 
meat  is  to  stand. 

Grudge  not  your  best  belongings  of  crockery,  china,  glass  and 
silver.  To  each  plate  allot  a glossy  (not  starched)  napkin,  a soup- 
spoon laid  in  front  of  the  plate  and  parallel  with  the  edge  of  the 
table,  at  the  left  side,  two  forks— at  the  right,  two  knives. 

If  you  use  “ individual  ” salts,  have  one,  newly  filled  and 
imprinted,  at  the  right  hand  ; also  a goblet  and  a butter-plate.  If 
you  have  larger  salt-stands,  assign  one  to  each  corner  of  the  table, 
and  one  midway  up  each  side,  if  the  party  be  large. 

As  a central  ornament,  have  a bowl,  or,  if  you  have  no  better 
vessel,  a soup-plate  of  flowers.  Or — for  these  are  beginning  to  be  very 
expensive  now — make  a beauty  of  economy,  and  fill  the  dish  with 
autumnal  treasures,  the  hardy  ferns  that  can  still  be  found  under 
the  fallen  shrubs  and  leaves  in  the  woods  ; bearded  grasses,  silver- 
gray  “ Life-Everlasting,”  the  fluffy  clusters  of  the  winged  seeds  of 
clematis,  and  bright  berries  from  wayside  hedges,  with  a shining 
brown  cone  or  two.  Make  your  decoration  mean  something,  and 
blend  the  fancy  with  all  the  appointments  of  the  feast. 


THE  THANKSGIVING  DINNER. 


445 


Within  the  napkins  slip  squares  or  thick  bars  of  bread,  and 
lay  on  the  outer  fold  of  each  a delicate  spray  of  variegated  foliage, 
or  a bit  of  fern  and  bunch  of  bitter-sweet,  or  blue-gray  cedar 
berries. 

Distribute  the  dishes  with  an  eye  to  effect  of  color  and 
grouping,  rather  than  to  rectilinear  symmetry.  Avoid  rows 
and  “ match-dishes.”  Motley  now-a-days  is  your  only  wear,  and  the 
zigzag  the  direction  of  artistic  beauty. 

On  a side-board,  or  table,  arrange  methodically  relays  of  knives, 
forks,  plates,  etc.,  and  be  sure  the  order  is  comprehended  by  the 
cook  and  waiter  before  the  family  and  guests  sit  down. 

Begin  the  meal  with  a good  soup. 

To  this  should  succeed  fish — if  you  live  near  the  seaboard,  boiled 
cod  with  drawn  butter,  boiled  halibut  with  egg-sauce  poured  over 
it — or  better  than  either,  a pretty  thick  piece  of  baked  halibut  with 
sauce  tartare. 

None  of  these  are  costly,  and  all  are  good. 

Most  well-bred  people — I may  hint  just  here — in  eating  fish, 
boiled  in  particular,  rarely  touch  it  with  their  knives,  even  when 
these  are  silver.  The  fork  is  used  for  breaking  apart  the  flakes, 
for  separating  from  these  and  removing  the  bones,  and  for  conveying 
the  prepared  morsel  to  the  mouth.  No  vegetables,  unless  it  be  pota- 
toes in  some  form,  are  passed  with  fish. 

Still  leading  up  to  the  main  business  of  the  hour,  let  the  next 
offering  be  a nice  entree^  or  made-dish,  chicken  pates  or  croquettes, 
in  memoriam  of  the  ponderous  chicken-pie  which  was  a standing 
dish  with  our  grandmothers  on  the  fourth  Thursday  of  November. 
With  it  send  around  stewed  salsify  (oyster-plant)  and  pickles. 

Then — for  the  central  theme,  the  point  of  clustering  interests-— 
the  Thanksgiving  Turkey  I 


446 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


He  should  be  well  stufifed,  carefully  basted,  judiciously  turned 
from  time  to  time,  be  a constant  if  not  oppressive  solicitude,  never 
lifted  from  the  mind  of  the  cook,  be  she  amateur  or  professional, 
from  the  moment  he  is  put  down  to  roast  until  he  is  drawn — rich  in 
coloring,  done  to  a turn  in  the  thickest  joint,  but  nowhere  scorched, 
a goodly  type  of  plenty — from  temporary  seclusion. 

Is  it  not  Dickens  who  paints  a family  of  poor  children  sitting 
around  the  spit  to  see  the  Christmas  goose  cooked,  and  almost 
dining  on  the  odor  ? 

Surround  our  Bird,  when  dished,  with  small  fried  sausages  not 
larger  than  a dollar,  interspersed  with  blanched  celery-tops.  Ac- 
company him  by  a sauce-boat  of  gravy  from  which  the  fat  was 
skimmed  before  the  chopped  giblets  were  stirred  in ; a dish  of 
cranberry  sauce  or  jelly,  and  sweet  potatoes. 

When  the  savory  portion  laid  on  each  plate  has  been  duly  dis- 
cussed, pass  a glass-stand  or  salver  of  crisp  celery,  both  as  an 
assistant  to  the  gastric  juices  and  a tonic  (we  do  not  admit  the 
word  “ stimulant  ” here)  to  the  palate,  that  shall  prepare  it  for  the 
remainder  of  the  banquet. 

If  you  introduce  game,  let  it  succeed  the  turkey,  and  some 
lettuce  with  it.  If  it  is  not  convenient  to  get  quails,  grouse  or 
venison,  content  yourself  with  a salad  of  lettuce.  Break  apart  the 
heads  and  wash  each  leaf,  before  dinner,  rejecting  all  that  are  not 
sound  and  fresh.  Heap  these  upon  a dish  or  plate,  and  leave  in  the 
refrigerator  until  called  for.  This  dish  should  be  brought  to  table, 
and  set  before  the  hostess,  with  a salad-bowl. 

This  last  must  be  lined  with  a small,  clean  napkin.  Daintily, 
with  the  tips  of  your  fingers,  break  in  pieces  the  larger  leaves,  and 
lay  with  the  smaller,  upon  the  napkin.  When  all  are  looked  and 
picked  over,  gather  up  the  four  comers  of  the  napkin  upon  the 


THE  THANKSGIVING  DINNER. 


447 

heap ; shake  lightly  to  get  rid  of  the  clinging  moisture,  and  turn 
out  into  the  salad-bowl. 

Lay  the  wet  napkin  upon  the  emptied  dish  in  which  the  lettuce 
was  brought,  and  send  away.  Dress  the  lettuce  with  salt,  white 
sugar,  pepper,  oil  and  vinegar,  allowing  to  three  tablespoonfuls  of 
oil  twice  the  quantity  of  vinegar,  toss  with  a wooden  spoon  and  fork, 
until  the  seasoning  permeates  the  salad,  and  send  around  the  table. 

Salad-dressing  at  table  is  a graceful,  housewifely  accomplishment 
which  every  woman  should  practice. 

Eat  the  lettuce — and  indeed  all  salads — with  the  fork  alone.  If 
the  leaves  have  been  properly  selected,  there  is  no  excuse  for  touch- 
ing the  knife,  and  lettuce  is  unfit  for  table-use  which  cannot  be  cut 
with  a fork-tine. 

Crackers  and  cheese  follow  this  course,  and,  if  you  like,  olives. 
This  is  the  breathing-space  in  a “ course-dinner,^’  a season  of 
leisurely  and  luxurious  resting  on  the  gastronomic  oars  before  the 
next  long  pull. 

The  cheerful  chat,  that  has  been  the  best  sauce  of  the  meal,  is 
here  especially  in  order — a running  fire  of  jest  and  repartee  re-acting 
wholesomely  upon  appetite  and  digestion. 

To-day,  allow  the  children  a modest  share  in  table-talk — an 
exercise  in  which,  by  the  way,  Americans  of  the  middle-class  are 
usually  egregiously  unskilful.  As  with  other  fine  arts,  practice 
in  this  is  indispensable  to  perfection,  and  the  cultivation  of  it 
involves  what  our  utilitarian  stigmatizes  as  “trifling  over  one’s 
victuals.” 

If  we  dallied  longer  over  the  family  meal,  we  would  pay  fewer 
serious  calls  to  the  doctor’s  office  and  apothecary’s  shop. 

The  pumpkin-pie  is  the  next  consideration.  Keep  the  mince  for 
Christmas.  The  pumpkin  is  the  homelier,  yet  luscious  domestic 
product,  the  representative  of  our  garnered  harvest. 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


14S 

The  crust  should  be  short  and  flaky — not  friable,  and  tasting 
iike  dessiccated  lard.  It  must  crackle  with  an  agreeable  sound,  like 
the  rustle  of  dry  leaves,  under  the  knife,  and  melt  upon  the  tongue. 
The  filling  must  be  of  a golden-brown,  in  the  enjoyment  of  which 
the  palate  cannot  discern  the  various  elements  of  milk,  eggs,  sugar 
and  pumpkin,  but  is  abundantl}^  satisfied  with  the  combined  whole. 

Fruits  and  nuts  are  eaten  at  ease,  and  in  indolent  contentment, 
and,  these  disposed  of,  send  black  coffee  after  the  withdrawing 
company  into  the  parlor,  as  a grateful  stomachic  sequel. 

“ Heaven  pity  the  dish-washers  ! ” cried  an  old  lady,  admitted  to 
inspect  the  glories  of  the  Lord  Mayor’s  banquet. 

Perhaps  in  the  mind  of  my  fellow-housekeeper  who  can  afford  to 
hire  but  one  “ girl  ” and  does  not  often  “ entertain,”  a similar  ejacu- 
lation may  arise  in  reading  the  above  sketch  of  a holiday  feast. 

Get  one  plume  less  for  your  winter  bonnet,  and  lay  by  the 
money  thus  saved  to  pay  for  extra  help  on  Thanksgiving  Day. 

Or,  if  you  prefer,  let  the  soiled  dishes  of  the  later  courses  be 
rinsed  in  hot  water,  and  set  b}^  in  the  back  kitchen  until  next 
morning.  There  will  be  no  violent  convulsion  of  Nature  should 
you  depart  once  in  a great  while,  from  established  laws. 

Spare  no  pains  to  make  your  few  fetes  landmarks  in  the  memory 
of  your  children.  The  stately  progress  of  a dinner  such  as  we  have 
described  is  an  educational  step  to  them,  and  a solemn  joy  in  the 
recollection.  It  is  worth  while — hoiv  well  worth  while  many  are 
•prone  to  leave  out  of  sight — to  make  for  ourselves  and  our  juniors 
golden  days  that  shall  never  lose  their  lustre. 

Who  thinks,  even  once  a year,  of  the  true  meaning  of  holy- 
day  ? ” The  dinner  here  proposed  costs  no  more  than  the  very 
promiscuous  “ spread  ” that  will  crowd  many  a table  in  farmhouse 
and  unfashionable  street  upon  the  anniversary,  to  be  swallowed  in 
half  the  time  the  decorous  succession  of  ours  will  require. 


fon\potP  of  Fruity. 

/^a  oV. 

/o  0 Q Q 

^^0  Z7  0 ^ 


^l4r\e  /AdiAge  i Ia  VAr\il  I f. 


/*W*?doir\?  of  Fr\jitj>V(itK  Jelly 


/Ailk  Pvidding.  ^ ^ 


Roly  PolyJdn\P\jddir\g 


leed  Oratxges 


Tip^yCAke 


PKoeolate  Preari\. 


Par\eaKe§  & Api'icot  Jdn\- 


joc. 


Fruit.  Puddirvg 


PKdrIottf  RVi&sf' 


LOnnonru 


Lerf\or\PreArt\. 


Pkri^ttAdS  PI\irr\Pvjddii\g 


Winter  Bills  of  Fare. 

No.  36. 

BREAKFAST. 

Browned  Rice  Porridge. 

Fricasseed  Eggs.  Crumpets.  Stewed  Potatoes. 

Fruit.  Tea.  ’Coflfee. 


Browned  Rice  Porridge. 

Parch  a cupful  of  dry  rice  in  the  oven  to  a light  brown,  as  you 
would  coffee,  stirring  it  to  prevent  scorching,  and  to  preserve  a 
uniform  tint.  Put  over  the  fire  in  a farina  kettle,  with  more  than 
a quart  of  cold  water,  salt  slightly  and  cook  tender,  but  not  to 
breaking.  Shake  up  from  the  bottom  now  and  then,  but  do  not  stir 
it.  When  done,  drain  off  the  water ; set  the  kettle  uncovered  at 
the  back  of  the  stove  to  dry  off  the  rice.  Eat  with  sugar  and 
cream.  This  is  especially  wholesome  diet  when  laxatives,  such  as 
wheaten  grits,  or  such  heating  cereals  as  oatmeal  are  to  be  avoided 
by  the  eater. 


Fricasseed  Eggs. 

Boil  for  fifteen  minutes,  throw  at  once  into  cold  water,  and  let 

them  lie  there  for  the  same  time.  Peel,  cut  each  in  half  lengthwise  ; 

449 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


extract  tlic  yolks,  and  rub  smooth  \vitli  a teaspoon ful  of  anchovy 
paste,  a little  made  mustard  and  the  tiniest  suspicion  of  cayenne. 
Mould  this  pasty  mixture  into  balls  of  the  same  shape  and  size  as 
the  yolks,  put  them  into  the  cavities  left  in  the  halved  whites, 
fasten  them  in  place  by  tying  firmly  with  cotton  twine  when  you 
have  skewered  them  together  with  wooden  toothpicks,  one  through 
each  bisected  egg.  Have  ready  in  a saucepan  a good  cupful  of 
drawn  butter  (drawn  with  milk,  not  water),  seasoned  with  pepper, 
salt  and  minced  parsley.  Lay  the  eggs  in  carefully ; set  the 
saucepan  covered  in  boiling  water,  and  cook  gently,  keeping  the 
water  outside  at  a slow  boil  for  ten  minutes.  Arrange  the  eggs  in 
a pile  on  a heated  platter,  and  pour  the  sauce  over  them. 


Crumpets. 


One  quart  of  milk;  half  a yeast-cake  dissolved  in  warm  water, 
or  four  tablespoon  fills  of  yeast ; one  tablespoonful  of  lard,  and  the 
same  of  butter ; one  half  teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  quarter  teaspoonful 
of  soda  sifted  twice  with  the  salt  in  a quart  of  flour. 

Mix  well  over  night ; beat  up  hard  in  the  morning ; let  it  rise 
for  an  hour  longer  ; half  fill  heated  and  greased  mufiin  tins,  on  a 
heated  and  greased  griddle  with  the  batter,  and  bake  on  the  top  of 
the  range,  turning  once.  Run  a sharp  knife  around  the  inside  of 
each  ring  to  loosen  the  crumpet.  Eat  hot.  The  cold  ones  left  over 
are  nice,  if  split,  toasted  and  buttered. 


LUNCHEON. 

Oysters  on  Toast. 


Thin  Bread  and  Butter. 
Hot  Crackers. 


Jellied  Tongue. 
Cheese. 


An  Excellent  Cup  Cake. 
Cocoatheta. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  451 

Oysters  on  Toast. 

Drain  the  liquor  from  a quart  of  oysters ; cut  each  into  four  ' 
pieces,  and  drain  again  in  a colander  for  fifteen  minutes.  Heat  the 
liquor,  and  strain  through  coarse  muslin  back  into  the  sauce.  When 
it  boils  again,  dip  out  a small  cupful  and  keep  it  hot.  Stir  into  that 
left  on  the  range  a liberal  teaspoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  a scant 
teaspoonful  of  corn-starch.  In  another  vessel,  heat  half  a cupful  of 
milk.  Stir  the  oysters  into  the  thickened  liquor ; season  with  pep- 
per and  salt,  and  cook,  after  they  are  scalding  hot,  five  minutes 
before  adding  the  milk.  Line  a hot  platter  with  net  slices  of  crust- 
less toast,  buttered,  wet  with  the  reserved  liquor,  and  cover  with 
the  oysters. 


Thin  Bread  and  Butter. 

Cut  the  “ kissing  slice  ” from  the  end  of  a loaf ; butter  the 
exposed  surface,  and  slice  very  thin.  Butter  again,  and  slice  until 
you  have  enough  cut.  Draw  a sharp  knife  across  the  middle  of 
each  slice  and  fold  it  over  upon  itself,  buttered  sides  inward. 


Jellied  Tongue. 

Clear  a pint  of  the  liquor  in  which  a smoked  tongue  was  boiled, 
by  heating  to  a boil,  and  stirring  in  the  white  of  an  egg,  then  boil- 
ing slowly  for  five  minutes.  Strain  through  a thick  cloth  without 
squeezing,  and  pour  it  boiling-hot  on  half  a package  of  gelatine, 
which  has  been  soaked  two  hours  in  enough  cold  water  to  cover  it. 
Add  to  this  a blade  of  mace,  half  a dozen  black  peppercorns,  and 
four  tablespoonfuls  of  sharp,  clear  vinegar.  Stir  until  the  gelatine 
is  dissolved,  and  strain,  without  pressing,  through  a flannel  bag. 
When  it  is  cold,  and  begins  to  congeal  at  the  edges,  fill  a mold  or 


452  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

bowl  (wet  with  cold  water)  with  slices  of  tongue  arranged  in  j)er- 
2:)endicular  rows,  and  pour  the  jelly  over  them.  vSet  in  a cold  place 
until  firm  ; turn  out  oil  a cold  platter.  You  can  jelly  the  tongue 
whole,  if  you  like,  by  cutting  off  the  root,  and  trimming  the  rest 
into  a neat  shape,  paring  away  every  particle  of  skin,  and  omitting 
the  tough  tip  altogether.  Lay  it  iii  an  oval  pan  or  mold,  and  cover 
with  the  semi-liquid  jelly.  It  will  be  a handsome  dish  when  turned 
out. 


An  Excellent  Cup  Cake. 

Two  rounded  cups  of  powdered  sugar ; one  even  cup  of  butter ; 
one  cup  of  milk  ; three  cups  of  prepared  flour ; four  eggs  ; one  lemon, 
juice  and  rind. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  beat  in  the  lemon,  the  whipped 
yolks,  the  milk ; then  frothed  whites  and  flour  by  turns.  Bake  in 
small  tins,  or  in  two  square  tins. 


DINNER. 

Giblet  Soup. 

Roast  Beef,  with  Yorkshire  Pudding.  Sea  Kale. 

Mount  Blanc  Potato.  Creamed  Sponge  Cake. 
Brandied  Peaches.  Fruit.  Coffee. 


Giblet  Soup. 

Cook  the  giblets  of  a turkey,  or  those  from  a pair  of  chickens, 
in  a pint  of  cold  water  until  tender;  salt,  and  set  away  in  the  liquor 
until  cold  and  stiff.  Take  them  out,  and  cIiojd  fine,  when  you  have 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


453 


skimmed  the  fat  from  the  liquor,  and  put  it  over  the  fire  with  a pint 
of  soup  stock.  Boil  up  well,  skim,  strain  back  into  the  pot,  add  the 
minced  giblets,  and  season  to  taste.  Put  into  a frying-pan  two 
tablespoonfuls  of  butter  which  has  been  cut  up,  and  worked  into 
two  of  browned  flour.  Stir  steadily  until  it  melts  and  simmers, 
when  add  a small  teaspoonful  of  Worcestershire  sauce.  Turn  into 
the  soup,  rinsing  out  the  frying-pan  with  a few  spoonfuls  of  the  hot 
liquor  to  get  all  the  flour  and  butter.  Cook  gently  for  ten  minutes, 
and  serve. 


Roast  Beef  with  Yorkshire  Pudding. 

When  a roast  of  beef  is  within  half  an  hour  of  the  “ turn,’’ 
drain  off  the  gravy  in  a bowl,  leaving  about  two  tablespoonfuls 
in  the  dripping  pan.  Lay  a gridiron  over  the  pan,  if  you  have 
one  that  will  go  into  the  oven.  If  not,  prop  the  meat  on  clean  sticks 
of  oak  or  hickory  (not  pine)  laid  across  the  top  of  the  dripping 
pan,  Pour  in  the  pudding,  letting  the  fat  from  the  roast  drop  on  it 
as  it  cooks. 


Yorkshire  Pudding. 

Four  eggs  beaten  very  light ; two  cups  of  milk ; two  cups  of 
prepared  flour;  one  teaspoonful  of  salt.  Beat  whites  and  yolks 
into  separate  bowls ; into  the  latter  stir  the  milk,  then  frothed 
whites  and  salted  flour  by  turns ; mix  quickly,  and  bake  at  once. 
Cut  the  pudding  into  strips  an  inch  wide  by  three  long,  and  lay 
about  the  beef  when  dished,  helping  one  or  two  pieces  with  each 
slice  of  meat. 


Sea  Kale. 

This  is  a vegetable  that  needs  only  to  be  better  known  to  become 
widely  popular.  Lay  in  cold  water  for  half  an  hour,  when  you 


454 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


have  washed  and  picked  it  over  to  get  out  dead  leaves,  coarse  stems, 
bits  of  sand,  &e.  ; cook  twenty-five  ininntcs  in  boiling  water, 
salted  ; di'ain,  and  press  in  a colander,  chop  fine,  return  to  the  fire 
in  a saucepan  and  beat  into  it  a great  spoonful  of  butter,  a little 
pepper  and  a great  spoonful  of  vinegar  ; stir  and  toss  until  very 
hot  and  dish. 


Mont  Blanc  Potato. 

Instead  of  mashing  boiled  potatoes,  whip  light  and  dry  with  a 
wooden  or  silver  fork.  At  this- point,  begin  to  whip  in  a cupful  of 
hot  milk  for  a quart  of  mashed  potatoes,  and  when  all  is  in,  beat 
in  the  frothed  white  of  two  eggs.  Heap  conically  in  a deep  silver 
or  stoneware  dish  ; set  in  a quick  oven  until  the  surface  hardens 
slightly.  Withdraw  before  it  catches  a shade  of  brown,  wash  over 
lightly  with  butter,  and  send  to  table. 

Creamed  Sponge  Cake. 

Cut  the  top  from  a stale  sponge  cake  loaf  in  one  piece,  half  an 
inch  thick.  Dig  and  scrape  the  crumbs  from  inside  of  loaf  and 
upper  slice,  leaving  enough  to  keep  the  outside  firm.  Spread  a 
thick  layer  of  fruit  jelly  on  the  inside.  Heat  a cup  of  milk  to  aboil, 
stir  in  a teaspoonful  of  corn-starch  v/et  with  cold  milk,  and  the  cake 
crumbs  rubbed  fine.  Stir  until  thick,  take ‘from  the  fire,  beat  in  two 
whipped  eggs  and  two  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar.  Make  all  into 
smooth  batter ; set  in  boiling  water  on  the  range  and  stir  for  five 
minutes  after  the  mixture  is  really  hot  through.  Turn  into  a bowl, 
fiavor  with  a teaspoon ful  of  bitter  almond  essence,  and  let  it  get  cold. 
Fill  the  cake  with  it,  fit  on  the  top,  wash  all  over  with  whipped 
white  of  egg ; sift  powdered  sugar  evenly  over  it  until  no  more 
will  adhere  to  the  surface,  and  let  it  harden. 

Send  around  brandied  peaches  with  this. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


455 


No.  37. 


BREAKFAST. 


Hominy  Boiled  with  Milk. 

Fried  Mush.  Brown  Muffins. 


Creamed  Eggs. 


Maple  Syrup. 
Fruit. 


Tea. 


Coffee. 


Hominy  Boiled  with  Milk. 


One  cupful  of  small  hominy  ; one  quart  of  boiling  water,  salted ; 
one  cupful  of  milk  ; salt  to  taste. 

Wash  the  hominy  in  two  waters  and  stir  it  into  the  boiling  water. 
Cook  half  an  hour  (in  a farina  kettle,  of  course),  drain  off  all  the 
water  that  will  come  away,  add  the  milk,  already  heated,  and  cook 
half  an  hour  longer.  Eat  with  cream,  and,  if  you  like,  sugar. 


Creamed  Eggs. 

Break  as  many  eggs  in  a buttered  pie-dish  as  it  will  hold  with- 
out crowding  each  other.  Sprinkle  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  put  a 
bit  of  butter  on  each.  Have  ready  a cup  of  hot  milk  in  which  has 
been  cooked  for  one  minute  a teaspoonful  of  corn-starch,  or,  better 
yet,  of  arrowroot  wet  up  with  cold  water.  Pour  this,  a spoonful  at 
a time,  about  the  raw  eggs,  and  bake  in  a quick  oven  until  the  «ggs 
are  fairly  set.  Five  minutes  should  do  it.  Send  to  table  at  once 
in  the  pie-plate. 


Fried  Mush. 


One  heaping  cup  of  Indian  meal ; one  quart  of  boiling  water,  and 
one  of  cold,  in  which  stir  a teaspoonful  of  salt — a full  one. 

Stir  the  meal,  wet  with  cold  water,  into  the  pot  of  boiling  water, 
and  cook  one  hour,  stirring  up  from  the  bottom  once  in  a while. 


45^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Wet  muffin  tins  in  cold  water,  and  fill  with  the  mush  over  night. 
In  the  morning  slip  the  stiffened  shapes  out,  flour  them  well  and  fry 
in  hot  dripping. 


Brown  Muffin.s. 

Three  even  cups  of  Graham  flour;  one  even  cup  of  white  flour; 
four  cups  of  milk  ; four  tablespoon  fills  of  yeast ; one  tablespoon  ful 
of  butter ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  brown  sugar  ; one  teaspoonful  of 
salt. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  together;  add  the  milk,  sift  the  flour, 
white  and  brown,  with  the  salt ; make  a hole  in  the  middle,  stir  in 
the  milk  and  then  the  yeast ; beat  well,  set  to  rise  over  night,  and 
bake  in  small  tins  in  a good  oven.  Let  the  batter  stand  in  the  tins 
in  a warm  place  twenty  minutes  before  going  into  the  oven. 


LUNCHEON. 

Bread  and  Butter,  Barbecued  Ham. 

Cream  Toast.  Baked  Potatoes. 

Steamed  Potatoes.  Marmalade  Cake. 


Barbecued  Ham. 

Fry  slices  of  cold,  boiled  ham ; keep  warm  while  you  stir  into 
the  gravy  left  in  the  pan  four  tablespoonfuls  of  vinegar,  mixed  with  a 
tablcspoonful  of  mustard,  a teaspoonful  of  sugar,  half  a teaspoonful 
of  catsup,  or  Chili  sauce,  and  a little  pepper.  Boil  up  once  and  pour 
on  the  fried  ham.  This  dish  is  sometimes  called  “ deviled  ham,” 
and  is  a good  spur  to  appetite. 


457 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Cream  Toast, 

Eight  or  ten  slices  of  stale  baker’s  bread.  Cut  off  the  crusts  ; 
two  cups  of  hot  milk  ; two  tablespoonfiils  of  butter  ; whites  of  two 
eggs  ; boiling  water,  salted. 

As  each  slice  of  bread  is  toasted,  dip  in  a saucepan  of  salted 
boiling  water,  kept  on  the  range  ; pile  in  a deep  covered  dish.  Put 
on  the  top  of  the  dish  when  all  the  dipped  toast  is  in,  and  make  the 
sauce.  Heat  the  milk  to  scalding,  add  the  butter,  and  when  it  is 
melted,  the  whites  of  the  eggs  beaten  to  a froth.  Pour  upon  the 
toast,  lifting  the  lower  slices  to  let  the  dressing  get  at  them,  cover 
and  keep  hot  for  five  minutes  before  sending  to  the  table. 

Baked  Potatoes. 

Select  fine,  fair  potatoes,  wash  and  wipe,  and  bake  them  in  a 
moderate  oven  until  the  largest  yields  to  a vigorous  pinch  of  thumb 
and  finger.  Line  a dish  with  a napkin,  and  serve  them  without 
peeling. 

Steamed  Apples. 

Wash  and  wipe  sweet  apples  ; dig  out  the  blossom-end  and  the 
upper  part  of  the  core  with  a sharp-pointed  knife,  and  lay  them 
close  together  in  a baking-pan.  Half  submerge  in  cold  water; 
cover  closely  and  cook  tender.  Let  them  get  cold,  still  covered,  in 
a glass  dish,  and  eat  with  sugar  and  cream. 


Marmalade  Cake. 

One  cup  of  prepared  flour ; one  cup  of  sugar ; two  tablespoon- 
fuls of  butter ; one  tablespoonful  of  milk  ; three  eggs  ; marmalade 
or  jelly  (sweet)  for  filling. 


45^ 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Work  butter  and  sugar  to  a light  sauce,  beat  the  eggs  light. 
Whip  the  beaten  yolks  into  the  creamed  sugar  and  butter,  add  the 
milk,  the  whites,  and  the  flour.  Bake  in  three  jelly  cake-tins,  and 
spread  marmalade,  sweet  jelly  or  jam  between. 


DINNER. 

Clam  Chowder.  Boiled  Chicken  in  Rice. 

Stewed  Celery.  Mashed  Potatoes.  Lettuce  Salad. 

Crackers  and  Roquefort  Cheese. 

Coffee,  Jelly  and  Cake.  Fruit.  Coffee. 


Clam  Chowder.  (The  best  on  record.) 

Two  quarts  of  long  clams,  chopped  ; two  quarts  of  tomatoes  (or 
one  quart  can)  ; a dozen  potatoes  peeled,  or  cut  into  dice ; one  large 
onion,  sliced  thin ; eight  pilot  biscuits ; half  a pound  of  fat  salt 
pork,  minced ; twelve  whole  allspice,  and  the  same  of  cloves ; as 
much  cayenne  pepper  as  you  can  take  up  on  the  point  of  a knife  ; 
salt  to  taste ; two  quarts  of  cold  water. 

Fry  the  chopped  pork  crisp  in  a pot,  take  the  bits  out  with  a 
skimmer,  and  fry  the  minced  onion  until  it  is  colored.  Now  put 
with  the  fat  and  onion  the  tomatoes  and  potatoes,  the  spices  tied  up 
in  a bag,  the  water  and  the  pepper.  Cook  steadily  four  hours.  At 
the  end  of  three  hours  and  a half,  add  the  clams  and  the  pilot  bread. 
This  last  should  be  broken  up  and  soaked  in  warm  milk.  Some 
consider  that  the  chowder  is  improved  by  stirring  in,  five  minutes 
before  serving,  a tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  browned  flour.  It 
is  delicious  with,  or  without,  this  final  touch. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Boiled  Chicken  on  Rice. 


459 


Prepare  the  fowl  as  for  roasting,  bind  in  a piece  of  muslin  or 
mosquito  net ; put  into  a pot  of  boiling  water,  and  cook  twelve  min- 
utes to  the  pound.  Half  an  hour  before  taking  it  up,  dip  out  a cup- 
ful of  liquor  from  the  pot,  strain  it,  and  set  in  ice-cold  water  to  throw 
up  the  grease.  Skim  this  off,  and  season  the  cup  of  broth  well  with 
pepper  and  salt.  Have  ready  two  cupfuls  of  rice  which  has  been 
boiled  ten  minutes,  and  then  drained.  Mix  this  with  the  skimmed 
broth,  and  cook  in  a farina  kettle  until  the  rice  is  tender.  Shake 
the  kettle,  now  and  then,  but  do  not  put  a spoon  into  the  rice. 
When  all  the  broth  is  absorbed,  stir  in  very  lightly  a tablespoonful 
of  butter  and  a little  minced  parsley,  with  a beaten  egg.  Cook  one 
minute,  and  take  from  the  fire.  Spread  the  rice  two  inches  thick  in 
the  bottom  of  a hot  platter,  and  settle  the  boiled  chicken  in  the  mid- 
dle. For  gravy,  heat  another  cupful  of  broth,  strain,  and  add  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  one  of  flour,  and  when  it  thickens, 
salt  and  pepper,  a beaten  egg  and  minced  parsley.  Cook  ten  min- 
utes, and  send  to  table  in  a boat. 


Stewed  Celery. 

Scrape  and  wash  the  celery,  cut  it  into  inch-lengths,  and  cook 
ten  minutes  in  boiling,  salted  water.  Turn  this  off,  and  cover  with 
cold  water.  As  this  reaches  the  boil,  drain  it  off  and  add  a cup  of 
milk,  dropping  in  a bit  of  soda  not  larger  than  a grain  of  corn  ; 
heat,  and  stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  flour,  pepper  and 
salt,  and  stew  gently  five  minutes  longer.  As  you  scrape  and  'cut 
the  celery,  drop  each  piece  into  cold  water  to  keep  it  white. 


460 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Lettuce  Salad. 


Wash  the  lettuce  faithfully,  and  pick  out  the  best  pieces,  i,  A, 
the  whitest  and  crispest  leaves  for  tlie  table.  Do  this  just  before 
dinner  is  served,  and  leave  in  ice-water  until  it  is  wanted.  Line  a 
salver  with  a small  napkin,  and  pile  the  lettuce  on  it.  Tear  the 
leaves  into  smaller  pieces  daintily,  and  lay  in  the  salad  bowl.  Scat- 
ter salt,  pepper,  and  white  sugar  over  and  among  them  ; when  they 
are  ready  for  seasoning,  pour  in  two  or  three  tablespoonfuls  of  salad 
oil,  and  double  the  quantity  of  vinegar ; toss  (still  daintily),  with  a 
salad  fork  and  spoon,until  the  dressing  is  impartially  distributed, 
and  pass  the  bowl  at  once.  Salad  dressed  in  this  way,  and  eaten 
before  the  crisp  succulence  of  the  lettuce  is  destroyed  by  the  vine- 
gar, is  quite  a different  thing  from  the  wilted  greens  often  passed 
under  the  mnch-perverted  name.  It  should  never  be  touched  with 
the  knife  in  preparing  or  in  eating.  You  may  send  around 
crackers  and  cheese  with  it. 


Coffee  Jelly. 

One  package  of  Coxe’s  gelatine  soaked  for  four  hours  in  enough 
cold  water  to  cover  it  an  inch  deep  when  it  is  put  in. 

Two  cups  of  clear  black  coffee  ; one  tablespoonful  of  white 
sugar  ; two  cups  of  boiling  water. 

When  the  gelatine  has  soaked  long  enongh,  put  it  with  the 
sugar  into  a large  bowl,  and  let  them  stand  for  half  an  hour.  Stir 
in,  then,  the  water,  actually  boiling,  and  when  the  gelatine  is 
dissolved,  strain.  Add  the  coffee,  strain  without  pressing  the 
flannel  Ixig,  and  set  in  a wet  mold  to  form.  When  you  are  ready  to 
serve  it,  turn  out  carefully  on  a flat  dish,  and  serve  with  sugar  and 


cream. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

No.  38. 

BREAKFAST. 


461 


Hominy  Porridge.  Fish  Balls. 

Risen  Muffins.  White  and  Graham  Bread. 

Chocolate.  Tea.  Fruit. 


Hominy  Porridge. 

One  cupful  of  small  hominy ; one  quart  of  boiling  water ; one 
tablespoonful  of  butter ; salt  to  taste. 

Wash  the  hominy  in  two  waters,  leaving  it  in  the  second  for  an 
hour  or  so ; drain  in  colander  lined  with  coarse  cloth,  and  stir  into 
the  salted  water,  which  should  be  boiling  in  a farina  kettle ; cover, 
and  cook  half  an  hour ; beat  up  from  the  bottom  with  a wooden 
spoon,  and  boil,  uncovered,  fifteen  minutes  ; beat  in  the  butter,  and 
pour  into  a deep  dish.  Eat  with  sugar  and  cream,  or  with  cream 
only. 

Fish  Bales. 

Mince,  or  pick  into  fine  shreds  a cupful  of  salt  cod,  soaked, 
boiled  and  cold.  Put  with  it  an  equal  quantity  of  freshly  mashed 
potato,  and  half  a.  cupful  of  drawn  butter  in  which  a raw  egg  has 
been  beaten.  Work  lightly  until  well  mixed  and  soft ; flour  a 
rolling-board,  and  drop  a spoonful  of  the  mixture  on  it.  Roll  into 
a ball,  and  lay  on  a cold  platter.  When  all  the  balls  have  been 
made,  set  in  a cold  place.  Do  this  over  night.  Heat  lard  or  drip- 
ping enough  to  cover  the  fish-balls  in  a deep  frying-pan  ; try  one 
to  see  if  it  is  hot  enough  to  cook  it  quickly,  and  fry,  a few  at  a time, 
to  a fine  golden  brown.  As  you  cook,  lay  them  in  a hot  colander 
to  free  them  from  grease.  Heap  on  a heated  platter,  slice  a lemon 
thin,  and  garnish  the  edges  ^he  dish  with  it. 


462  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

Risen  Muffins. 

Four  cups  of  flour ; four  tablespoonfuls  of  yeast ; two  eggs  ; one 
tablespoonful  of  butter  or  sweet  lard  ; one  cup  of  milk ; one  tea- 
spoonful of  salt. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  milk,  salt,  yeast,  shortening  (melted), 
sugar,  at  last,  the  flour.  Let  the  batter  rise  all  night,  setting  it  at 
bed  time.  In  the  morning,  bake  in  muflin-rings  on  a griddle,  or  in 
small  tins. 

LUNCHEON. 

Calf  s Brains.  Scalloped  Tomatoes. 

Steamed  Corn  Bread. 

Mock  East  India  Preserves.  Cookies. 


Calf’s  Brains. 

The  brains  of  a calf ; two  beaten  eggs  ; one  tablespoonful  of 
butter ; half  a cup  of  gravy  ; some  rounds  of  fried  bread,  or  of  toast. 

Wash  the  brains  in  cold  water,  and  take  out  fibres  and  skin. 
Drop  into  boiling  water,  and  cook  fast  fifteen  minutes.  Leave  in  ice 
water  until  perfectly  cold.  Mash  them,  then,  with  the  back  of  a 
spoon,  beat  in  the  eggs  with  salt  and  pepper  to  your  liking.  When 
you  have  a smooth  paste,  heat  the  butter  to  hissing  in  a frying-pan, 
stir  the  brains  in,  and  cook,  keeping  the  spoon  busy,  two  minutes. 
Have  ready  some  rounds  of  fried  bread  on  a hot  dish,  pour  on  each 
a teaspoonful  or  so  of  scalding  broth  or  gravy,  and  heap  the  smok- 
ing mass  of  soft  brains  on  them,  as  you  would  scrambled  eggs. 


Boiled  Corn  Bread. 

Two  cups  of  white  cornmeal ; one  cup  of  Graham  flour ; two 
tablespooiifuls  of  sugar;  two  and  a half  cups  of  milk;  two  tea- 


WINTER  BILLS  OE  FARE.  463 

spoonfuls  of  Baking  Powder ; one  great  spoonful  of  sliortening 
(half  butter  and  half  lard)  and  a spoonful  of  salt. 

Sift  baking-powder  with  the  flour,  add  the  meal,  and  sift 
again ; rnb  butter  and  sugar  together ; salt,  and  stir  in  the 
milk  ; the  latter  should  be  slightly  warmed.  Pour  this  liquid  in  a 
hole  made  in  the  mingled  meal  and  flour,  gradually  stirring  down 
the  dry  flour  toward  the  center  ; beat  all  hard,  two  minutes  at  least ; 
two  hours  will  be  better.  Dip  for  a second  in  cold  water,  and  turn 
the  bread  out  upon  a wkrm  plate.  Eat  at  once.  It  is  very  good. 


Scalloped  Tomatoes. 

Strain  most  of  the  liquor  from  a can  of  tomatoes,  butter  a bake- 
dish,  spread  a layer  of  tomatoes  in  the  bottom,  season  with  bits  of 
butter,  salt,  pepper,  sugar,  and  a few  shreds  of  onion.  Cover  this 
layer  with  fine  bread  crumbs,  put  over  it  another  of  tomatoes, 
seasoning,  and  so  on  until  the  dish  is  full.  The  top  should  be  a 
stratum  of  seasoned  crumbs.  Set  in  the  oven,  covered,  and  bake, 
removing  the  lid  ten  minutes  before  taking  it  out,  that  it  may 
brown  delicately. 


Mock  East  India  Preserves. 

Six  pounds  of  pared  and  minced  pippins,  or  other  winter  apples  ; 
six  pounds  of  sugar  ; three  lemons ; three  roots  of  white  ginger 
sliced  thin. 

Put  the  sugar  over  the  fire  with  a cup  of  boiling  water  to  prevent 
burning  ; as  it  dissolves,  increase  the  heat  and  bring  to  a brisk  boil. 
Cook  thus,  twenty  minutes  without  stirring,  but  watching  to  see 
that  it  does  not  scorch ; skim  and  add  the  apples,  the  lemons 
minced  (all  except  the  seed)  and  the  sliced  ginger ; boil  to  a clear 
yellow,  as  briskly  as  is  safe  ; pack  in  small  jars. 


464 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Cookies. 

One  large  cup  of  sugar  ; one  scant  cup  of  butter  ; two  beaten 
eggs  ; four  tablespooiifuls  of  milk  ; one  half  teaspooiiful  of  salt ; 
nutmeg  and  ciuuamoii,  each,  a half  teaspooiiful ; nearly  three  cups 
of  prepared  flour,  enough  to  enable  you  to  roll  it  into  a soft  dough. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar,  beat  in  the  wdiipped  eggs,  the  spices,  salt, 
milk,  and  stir  in  the  flour.  Roll  into  a thin  sheet  and  cut  iuto 
shapes  with  a cake-cutter.  Bake  in  a quick  oven. 


DINNER. 

Calf’s  Head  Soup. 

Halibut  Steak.  Beef’s  Tongue  au  gratin. 

Potato  Puff.  Stewed  Oyster  Plant. 

Baked  Apple  Dumpling,  Brandy  Sauce. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Calf’s  Head  Soup. 

A calf’s  head  cleaned  with  the  skin  on  ; six  tablespoonfuls  of 
butter,  and  a like  quantity  of  browned  flour ; six  quarts  of  cold 
water ; one  onion  sliced  and  fried,  and  one  grated  carrot ; bunch  of 
sweet  herbs  ; pepper  and  salt ; teaspoonful  of  allspice ; one  table- 
spoonful of  Worcesterslflire  sauce,  and  one  of  sugar ; one  glass  of 
brown  sherry. 

Boil  the  head  tender,  and  set  it  aside  in  the  liquor.  Next  day, 
take  it  out  of  the  stock,  scrape  off  the  jelly,  and  cut  the  meat  neatly 
fnjin  the  Ixmcs.  Reserve  that  from  the  top  of  the  head  and  cheeks 
to  cut  into  dice,  and  set,  for  this  purpose,  with  the  tougue,  in  a cool 
place.  vSet  tlie  stock  over  fire  and  add  to  it  the  bones,  the  refuse  meat, 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


465 


the  herbs,  fried  onion  and  carrot,  and  cook  one  hour ; strain,  when 
you  have  picked  out  the  bones,  and  rub  the  vegetables  through  the 
colander.  Put  the  butter  into  a frying-pan,  and  when  warm,  stir  in 
the  flour  to  a brown  roux^  as  it  is  called ; add  the  spice,  the  pepper 
and  the  salt,  and  turn  into  the  soup ; boil  two  minutes,  drop  in  the 
dice  of  meat  cut  with  a sharp  knife,  heat  to  a quick  boil,  and  put  in 
the  sauce.  The  wine  is  added  in  the  tureen.  Lay  thin  slices  of 
peeled  lemon  on  the  surface  of  the  soup.  You  may,  if  you  like, 
make  forcemeat-balls  of  the  brains,  stirred  up  with  raw  egg  and 
flour,  also  add  a cup  of  tomato  juice.  There  is  no  better  soup  than 
this  when  it  is  properly  made,  nor  is  it  so  difficult  as  one  might 
imagine  from  the  length  of  the  recipe. 

Halibut  Steaks. 

Wash  and  wipe  the  steaks,  dip  in  beaten  egg,  then  roll  in 
cracker-crumbs,  seasoned  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  fry  in  hot  drip- 
ping ; or,  you  may  broil  the  steaks  on  a gridiron  as  you  would 
beefsteak.  Serve  on  a hot  dish,  rub  on  both  sides  with  a mixture 
of  butter,  pepper  and  salt,  and  the  juice  of  a lemon. 

Beef’s  Tongue  augratin. 

Wash,  trim  and  scrape  a fine,  fresh  beef’s  tongue,  and  cook  in 
boiling  water,  slightly  salted,  one  hour. 

Take  up,  wipe  off  the  liquor,  cover  with  beaten  egg,  roll  it  in 
cracker-crumbs,  put  into  a dripping-pan  and  brown,  brushing  it 
twice  with  melted  butter  while  it  is  in  the  oven.  Keep  hot  in  a 
chafing-dish,  while  you  add  to  the  gravy  in  the  dripping-pan,  a cup- 
ful of  the  liquor  in  which  the  tongue  was  boiled,  a tablespoonful  of 
butter  cut  up  in  browned  flour,  half  a teaspoonful  of  made  mustard, 
salt  and  pepper,  and  the  juice  of  a lemon.  Boil  up,  and  strain  into 
a gravy-boat. 


466 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Potato  Puff. 

Boil,  and  mash  the  potatoes  in  the  usual  way,  with  butter  and 
milk  ; beat  in  two  eggs,  and  pour  into  a buttered  bake  dish.  Brown 
on  the  upper  grating  of  the  oven,  and  serve  in  the  dish  in  which  it 
was  baked. 


Stewed  Oyster  Plant. 

Scrape,  and  cut  into  inch-lengths  a bunch  of  o3^ster  plant,  drop- 
ping it  into  cold  water,  as  you  cut  it,  to  keep  the  color.  Stew 
tender  and  white,  in  boiling  water,  a little  salt.  Turn  off  the  water, 
and  supply  its  place  with  a cup  of  hot  (not  boiled)  milk,  stir  in  a 
tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  one  of  flour,  pepper  and  salt  to 
taste,  stew  three  minutes,  stirring  once  or  twice  to  prevent  lumping, 
and  serve. 

Baked  Apple  Dumplings. 

Four  sifted  cups  of  prepared  flour  ; one  tablespoonful  of  lard, 
and  the  same  of  butter ; two  cups  of  milk ; eight  fine  tart  apples ; 
half  a teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Chop  the  butter  and  lard  into  the  flour  (salted)  and  mix  with  milk 
to  a soft  dough,  roll  into  a sheet  nearly  half  an  inch  thick  ; cut  into 
squares  about  five  inches  across  ; pare  and  core  the  apples,  and  put 
one  in  the  middle  of  each  square ; fold  over  the  four  corners  of  the 
paste,  pinching  the  edges  together,  and  arrange  in  a floured  baking- 
pan,  the  folded  part  downward  ; bake  to  a light  brown  ; mb  with 
butter  when  done,  and  sift  sugar  on  the  top. 

Brandy  Sauce. 

Two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; two  cups  of  powdered  sugar ; 
three  tablespoonfuls  of  brandy  ; quarter  of  a grated  nutmeg. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


467 


The  butter  should  be  rather  soft,  but  not  melted.  Cream  it 
light  with  the  sugar,  spice,  and  beat  in  the  brandy,  whip  hard,  heap 
on  a glass  dish,  and  set  in  a cold  place  until  it  is  wanted  on  the 
table. 


No.  39. 


BREAKFAST. 


Oatmeal  Porridge. 
Southern  Batter  Bread. 

Cold  Bread. 
Tea. 


Codfish  Omelette. 

Potato  Loaves. 
Fruit. 

Coffee. 


Codfish  Omelette. 

One  cup  of  “ picked  ” salt  cod  which  has  been  soaked,  boiled 
and  allowed  to  get  cold ; one  cup  of  milk  ; one  tablespoon  ful  of  but- 
ter rubbed  in  one  of  flour  ; seven  eggs  beaten  light ; pepper,  and 
minced  parsley ; seven  rounds  of  crustless  toast,  dipped  in  boiling 
water,  then  buttered. 

Heat  the  milk,  stir  in  the  floured  butter,  pepper,  parsley  and 
minced  fish.  Take  from  the  fire  after  two  minutes  cooking,  add  the 
eggs  quickly  and  pour  into  a frying-pan  in  which  is  hissing  a 
spoonful  of  butter,  shake  and  stir  until  the  mixture  begins  to  form 
at  the  edges,  when  heap  on  the  buttered  toast  spread  on  a hot  dish. 
Serve  hot. 


Southern  Batter  Bread. 

Three  cups  of  Indian-meal ; half  cup  of  boiled  rice  (cold)  ; one 
pint  of  boiling  water  ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; three  eggs  ; one  cup- 
ful of  buttermilk,  or  sour  milk ; one  tablespoonful  of  lard  ; one 
even  teaspoonful  of  soda. 


468 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Sift  salt,  soda  and  meal  together  twice  ; wet  up  with  the  hot 
water,  and  beat  in  the  lard  and  rice.  Now,  whip  in  the  beaten  egg?, 
lastly,  the  sour  milk  and  lard.  Bake  in  a shallow  tin,  or  pie-plate. 
This  is  best  when  made  with  Southern  corn-meal. 

Potato  Loaves. 

Work  cold  mashed  potatoes  soft  with  a little  butter  and  the 
yolks  of  one  or  two  eggs,  say,  one  yolk  to  each  cupful,  season  with 
pepper  and  salt  and  make  into  neat  loaves,  flouring  your  hands  to 
enable  you  to  handle  the  paste.  Do  not  get  it  too  stiff.  Flour 
well,  lay  a little  distance  apart  in  a hot  dripping-pan,  and  brown 
quickly.  As  a crust  forms  upon  them,  wash  with  beaten  white  of 
egg  to  glaze  the  tops.  Slip  a spatula  under  them  and  transfer  to  a 
hot  dish. 

LUNCHEON. 

Fried  Tripe.  Baked  Eggs. 

Bread  and  Butter.  Crackers  and  Cheese. 

Tea  Cakes.  Chocolate. 


Fried  Tripe. 

Cut  cold  boiled  tripe  into  pieces  three  inches  square,  and  lay 
them  for  half  an  hour  in  a mixture  of  salad  oil  (a  tablespoonful), 
twice  as  much  vinegar,  a little  salt  and  pepper ; roll  in  salted  flour 
or  in  cracker  crumbs,  and  fry  in  hot  dripping  or  lard.  Drain  off  the 
grease,  and  dish. 

Baked  Eggs. 

Soak  a cupful  of  bread-crumbs  in  half  a cupful  of  hot  milk  for 
twenty  minutes,  stir  in  a teaspoonful  of  butter,  the  yolk  of  an  egg, 
a tablespoonful  of  grated  cheese,  two  tablespoonfuls  of  savory  broth, 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


469 


a little  minced  onion,  and  a teaspoonful  of  minced  parsley.  Pour 
the  mixture  into  a neat  pie-plate  and  set,  covered,  in  a quick  oven. 
In  six  minutes  lift  the  cover,  break  as  many  eggs  on  the  bubbling 
surface  as  the  dish  will  hold,  sift  fine  crumbs  on  top  and  leave  in 
the  oven  for  three  minutes  longer.  Serve  in  the  dish. 


Tea  Cakes. 

A quart  of  prepared  flour  ; an  even  cupful  of  butter ; four 
eggs  ; half  teaspoonful  of  nutmeg  or  mace  , half  cupful  of  raisins  ; 
one  heaping  cupful  of  sugar. 

Beat  eggs  light,  stir  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  and  put  with 
the  nutmeg.  Mix  well  together,  work  in  the  sifted  flour  lightly 
until  you  have  a good  paste.  Roll  into  a sheet  less  than  a quarter  of 
an  inch  thick,  cut  into  round  cakes,  bury  a raisin  in  the  center  of 
each,  and  bake  in  a brisk  oven.  Eat  fresh.  Do  not  let  them  get 
too  brown  in  the  oven. 


DINNER, 

Potato  Puree.  Larded  Pike. 

Veal  and  Ham  Cutlets. 

Creamed  Turnips.  Potato  Souffle. 

Stewed  Tomatoes.  Baked  Roley-Poley. 

Hard  Sauce. 

Fruit.  Nuts.  Coffee. 

Potato  Puree. 

Three  cups  of  mashed  potatoes  ; one  small  onion ; two  large 
tablespoonfuls  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  flour ; two  quarts  of  boil- 
ing water  ; two  eggs  ; two  stalks  of  celery  chopped  ; one  cup  of  hot 
milk  ; one  tablespoonful  of  finely  cut  parsley  ; salt  and  pepper. 


470 


HOUSE  AND  romp:. 


Put  potato,  onion  (chopped)  and  celery  with  the  hot  water  over 
the  fire,  season,  and  cook  gently  half  an  hour,  stirring  often  to 
prevent  scorching,  strain  and  rub  through  a colander ; return  to  the 
kettle  with  the  parsley  and  floured  butter,  and  stir  to  a simmering 
boil,  heat  in  an  another  vessel  the  milk,  turn  upon  the  beaten  eggs, 
mix  well,  add  to  the  contents  of  the  soup-kettle ; stir  over  the  fire 
for  one  minute,  and  pour  into  the  tureen. 

Larded  Pike. 

Clean  and  wash  the  fish  ; make  incisions,  crosswise,  in  the  sides 
and  put  into  each,  well  imbedded,  a strip  of  solid  fat  salt  pork ; lay 
in  a dripping-pan,  pour  over  it  a cupful  of  boiling  water,  and  bake, 
covered,  half  an  hour,  basting  often  with  the  liquor  in  the  pan  ; 
repeat  this  at  intervals  of  five  minutes  until  the  fish  is  tender  and 
nicely  browned ; lift  carefully  to  a hot-water  dish  ; strain  the  gravy, 
thicken  with  browned  flour,  boil  up,  add  half  a glass  of  claret,  and 
serve  in  a boat.  Pass  the  potato  souffle  with  the  fish.  Red 
snapper  may  be  cooked  in  the  same  way. 


Veal  and  Ham  Cutlets. 

Cut  enough  veal  cutlets  to  make  a good  dish,  and  a like  number 
of  slices  of  cold  boiled  ham.  Corned  ham  is  best.  Dip  both  in 
beaten  egg,  then,  in  fine  crumbs  mixed  with  salt,  pepper,  finely  cut 
parsley  and  a dust  of  nutmeg.  Fry  in  boiling  dripping,  or  lard; 
drain,  and  arrange  in  alternate  slices  of  veal  and  ham  on  a hot 
dish.  Garnish  with  cresses. 

Creamed  Turnips. 

Peel,  lay  in  cold  water  for  half  an  hour  and  cook  tender  and 
fast  in  hot  salted  water,  drain,  pressing  well,  put  into  a clean  tin  or 


WINTER  BILLS  OE  FARE. 


47 1 

porcelain  saucepan  and  beat  smooth  over  the  fire  with  a wooden 
spoon  (never  an  iron  one),  mixing,  as  you  go  on,  a good  spoonful 
of  butter  and  three  spoonfuls  of  milk  or  cream  ; season  with  pep- 
per and  salt.  The  lumps  should  be  rubbed  out  and  the  turnips  a 
smooth  puree. 


Potato  Souffle. 

Beat  two  cupfuls  of  hot  mashed  potato  light  and  soft  with  warm 
milk  and  a little  butter,  add  the  yolks  of  three  eggs,  pepper  and 
salt,  and  turn  into  a greased  pudding-dish ; set  in  the  oven  until  it 
begins  to  brown,  spread  with  a meringue  of  the  whites  whipped  stiff 
with  a little  salt  and  pepper ; drop  tiny  bits  of  butter  on  the  top,  and 
when  this  has  colored  slightly,  take  from  the  oven.  Serve  at  once 
before  it  falls. 


Stewed  Tomatoes. 

To  a can  of  tomatoes  add  a teaspoonful  of  minced  onion,  as 
much  white  sugar,  salt  and  pepper  to  taste,  a tablespoonful  of 
butter  and  two  tablespoonfuls  of  fine  crumbs ; stew  fast  for  twenty 
minutes,  and  rub  through  a hot  eolander  into  a deep  eovered  dish. 
This  is  a decided  improvement  on  the  usual  style  of  stewing 
tomatoes. 


Baked  Roley-Poley. 

One  quart  of  Hecker’s  prepared  flour ; two  full  tablespoonfuls  of 
lard  ; two  cups  of  milk  ; yolk  of  an  egg  ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; a 
large  cup  of  jam,  marmalade,  or  canned  (and  strained)  berries,  well 
sweetened. 

Sift  flour  and  salt  together,  beat  the  yolk  light,  and  stir  into  the 
milk ; chop  up  the  shortening  into  the  flour  until  well  incorporated ; 


472 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


wet  the  flour  with  the  milk  into  a good  dough  ; roll  out  half  an 
inch  thick,  spread  with  the  fruit,  and  roll  up  closely ; pinch  the 
outer  edges  together  and  lay  the  roll,  the  joined  sides  downward,  in 
a floured  baking-pan  ; bake  until  browned , wash  over  with  whipped 
white  of  egg,  and  send  to  table  ; eat  with  hard  sauce. 


No.  40. 

BREAKFAST. 

Oranges. 

Com  Beef  Hash.  English  Muffins. 

Potatoes  Stewed  Whole. 

Tea.  Coffee. 


Corned  Beef  Hash. 

To  two  cupfuls  of  cold  corned  beef,  minced,  allow  one  and  one- 
half  of  mashed  potatoes.  Mix  them  well  together,  and  season  with 
pepper.  Put  a cupful  of  broth  or  gravy  into  a frying-pan,  heat  to  a 
boil  and  stir  in  the  meat  and  potato,  tossing  and  scraping  it 
toward  the  center  from  the  sides  and  bottom,  until  you  have  a smok- 
ing heap,  just  soft  enough  not  to  run  over  the  pan.  Stiff  hash  is 
a culinary  abomination.  Serve  on  a hot  platter  with  triangles  of 
fried  bread  laid  about  the  base  of  the  heap,  points  upward.  If  you 
have  no  gravy,  put  boiling  water  into  the  pan,  mix  in  two  table- 
spoonfuls of  butter  with  a teaspoonful  of  tomato  catsup  or 
Worcestershire  sauce,  and  when  it  simmers,  proceed  as  above. 

English  Muffins. 

On  baking-day,  take  a pint  of  dough  from  the  batch  which  has 
risen  all  night ; work  in  a cupful  of  warm  water,  and  when  you 


WINTER  BIEES  OF  FARE. 


473 


have  a smooth,  stiffish  batter,  beat  iu  a couple  of  eggs.  Set  to  rise 
in  a pitcher  near  the  fire  for  an  hour,  or  until  quite  light ; have 
greased  mufiin-rings  ready  on  a hot  griddle,  half-fill  them  with  the 
batter,  and  bake  on  both  sides,  as  you  would  griddle-cakes.  Send 
to  table  hot,  and  split  them  by  tearing  them  open.  You  can  make 
them  without  eggs,  but  they  are  not  quite  so  nice. 


Potatoes  Stewed  Whole. 

Boil,  with  the  skins  on,  the  small  potatoes  the  cook  thinks  not 
worth  the  trouble  of  peeling,  until  done  through.  Turn  off  the 
water,  and  dry  in  the  hot  pot  for  a minute ; peel  quickly,  and  drop 
in  a saucepan  where  you  have  ready  the  sauce.  This  is  made  by 
scalding  a cup  of  milk,  adding  one  of  boiling  water,  stirring  into  it 
a tablespoonful  of  butter  cut  up  in  flour,  and  a tablespoonful  of 
chopped  parsley.  Pepper  and  salt,  and  simmer  with  the  potatoes 
in  it  ten  minutes  before  pouring  out.  It  is  well  to  mellow  each 
potato,  before  putting  it  in  the  sauce,  by  pressing  it  hard  enough 
with  the  back  of  a spoon  to  crack,  but  not  to  split  it. 


LUNCHEON. 

Shrimp  Salad,  with  Mayonnaise  Dressing, 
Cheesecups. 

Crackers,  Bread,  Butter  and  Olives. 
Oatmeal  Gingerbread. 
Cocoa-theta, 


Shrimp  Salad. 

Open  a can  of  shrimps  some  hours  before  you  want  to  use  them, 
and  keep  in  a cold  place.  An  hour  before  lunch-time,  cover  them 


474 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


with  vinegar  in  which  has  been  mixed  a tablespoon ful  of  salad  oil ; 
leave  them  in  this  fifty  minutes,  then  arrange  in  a broad,  cold, 
glass  dish,  saucers  or  cups  made  of  crisp  lettuce ; put  a tablespoon- 
ful of  shrimps,  drained,  in  each,  scatter  pounded  ice  among  the 
leaves,  and,  as  you  serve,  pour  on  a great  spoonful  of  mayonnaise 
dressing  for  each  person. 

Mayonnaise  Dressing. 

Yolk  of  six  eggs  ; one  cup  of  salad-oil ; two  tablespoonfuls  of 
vinegar ; one  saltspoonful  of  salt,  and  half  as  much  cayenne 
pepper. 

Keep  eggs,  vinegar  and  oil  on  ice  until  you  begin  to  mix  the 
dressing.  Set  a bowl  in  a pan  of  cracked  ice  ; break  the  yolks  care- 
fully into  it,  that  not  a drop  of  the  whites  may  mingle  with  them. 
Have  another  pan  of  ice  at  hand  in  which  the  bottles  of  vinegar  and 
oil  are  set.  Begin  to  beat  the  yolks  slowly  and  evenly,  and,  as  soon 
as  they  are  broken,  let  fall  one  drop  of  oil  upon  them,  each  minute, 
keeping  the  egg-beater  going  for  ten  minutes.  Then  put  in  three 
drops  each  minute,  until  the  mixture  is  a smooth  yellow  batter,  when 
begin  to  mix  in  the  vinegar,  a half-teaspoonful  every  two  minutes, 
alternating  it  with  a teaspoonful  of  oil,  beating  steadily  until  both 
are  used  up.  Now  go  in  salt  and  pepper.  Whip  vigorously  five 
minutes,  and  pour  into  a glass  or  silver  pitcher.  Keep  this  on  ice 
until  the  salad  is  served. 


Oatmeal  Gingerbread. 

Two  and  a half  cups  of  fine  oatmeal ; one  tablespoonful  of 
butter ; half  a cup  of  molasses,  and  the  same  of  brown  sugar ; one 
cup  of  sour  milk ; one  teaspoonful  (an  even  one)  of  soda,  and  one 
of  salt,  sifted  twice  through  the  meal ; one  teaspoonful  of  ginger, 
and  twice  as  much  cinnamon. 


WINTER  BILLS  OE  EARE. 


475 


Stir  molasses,  spice,  sugar,  and  melted  butter  until  they  are  a 
yellow-brown  cream,  add  the  milk  and  flour,  beat  bard,  and  bake  in 
small  buttered  tins.  Eat  warm. 


Cocoa-theta. 

This  delicious  and  delicate  preparation  of  chocolate  can  be 
made  in  five  minutes,  and  will  be  found  a peculiarly  agreeable 
accompaniment  to  the  wholesome  gingerbread  for  which  directions 
are  given  above. 


DINNER. 

Cod  Chowder.  Baked  Calf’s  Head. 

Canned  Corn  Stew.  Mold  of  Potato. 

Indian-Meal  Pudding. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 


Cod  Chowder. 

Three  pounds  of  fish ; one  onion,  sliced  and  fried ; twelve  Bos- 
ton crackers  ; half  a pound  of  salt  pork  ; butter  ; corn-starch  ; one 
pint  of  oysters,  chopped ; one  cup  of  milk  ; chopped  parsley ; 
pepper. 

Cut  the  cod  into  dice,  lay  a double  handful  in  the  bottom  of  the 
soup-pot,  on  this  strew  pork,  sliced  onion  and  pepper,  and  cover 
with  crackers.  Proceed  in  this  order  until  the  materials  are  all  in, 
cover  with  cold  water,  put  on  the  pot-lid,  and  stew  gently  until  the 
fish  is  tender — perhaps  for  an  hour  after  the  boil  begins.  Take  out 
the  fish  and  crackers  with  a split  spoon,  and  put  into  the  tureen, 
setting  the  platter  in  hot  water.  Strain  the  liquor  through  a col- 
ander to  get  out  the  bones,  return  to  the  kettle,  and  this  to  the  fire. 


476 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Cut  up  two  tablespooufuls  of  butter  iu  a tablespooiiful  of  coni-starcli, 
stir  this  into  the  liquor,  boil  up  and  put  iu  the  oysters  (chopped) 
and  a tablespoonful  of  parsley.  Siniiner  five  iiiiuutes,  add  a cupful 
of  hot  milk,  and  pour  into  the  tureen.  Pass  hot  crackers  and  sliced 
lemon  with  it. 


Baked  Calf’s  Head. 

This  should  have  been  cleaned  with  the  skin  on.  Take  out  the 
brains,  boil  them  ten  minutes  in  hot  water,  then  throw  them  into 
cold,  and  set  aside.  Bind  the  halves  of  the  head  in  place  with  wide 
tape,  put  over  the  fire  in  plenty  of  boiling,  salted  water,  and  cook 
gently  for  an  hour.  Take  up,  wipe,  score  the  cheeks  slightly  with 
a keen  blade,  and  lay  the  head  in  a dripping-pan.  Dash  over  it  a 
cupful  of  the  scalding  liquor  in  which  it  was  boiled,  and  bake,  bast- 
ing it  three  times  with  butter,  aftenvards  with  its  own  gravy.  When 
it  is  a fine  brown,  remove  to  a hot  dish,  strain  the  gravy  into  a 
saucepan,  add  the  brains  beaten  to  a paste,  thicken  with  browned 
flour,  season  to  taste,  boil  up  and  send  to  table  in  a boat.  Send 
around  Chili  sauce,  or  tomato  catsup,  with  the  head. 


Canned  Corn  Stew. 

Empty  a can  of  corn  some  hours  before  you  want  to  use  it,  to 
get  rid  of  the  “ close  ” taste  of  the  air-tight  vessel.  Chop  a bit  of 
fat  salt  pork  an  inch  square  into  tiny  atoms,  put  it  over  the  fire 
with  a cup  of  cold  water,  and  stew,  covered,  for  an  hour.  Pepper, 
and  add  the  corn.  Cook  twenty  minutes,  pour  in  half  a cup  of  hot 
milk  in  which  a teaspoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  flour  has 
been  dissolved,  also,  half  a teaspoonful  of  white  sugar.  Simmer 
five  minutes,  and  serve  in  a deep  dish. 


477 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Mold  of  Potato. 

To  two  cupfuls  of  mashed  potato,  allow  two  tablespoonfuls  of 
butter,  half  a cupful  of  hot  milk,  two  beaten  eggs,  a teaspoonful 
of  salt,  and  a quarter  as  much  pepper.  Mix  up  well ; butter  a mold 
or  bowl  with  plain  sides,  strew  these  thickly  with  fine  crumbs,  put 
in  the  potato,  and  set  in  a dripping-pan  of  hot  water  in  a good  oven. 
Bake  half  an  hour  and  turn  out  carefully  on  a heated  platter. 


Indian  Meal  Pudding. 

Three  cups  of  Indian  meal  ; one  quart  of  milk  ; three  eggs  ; four 
tablespoonfuls  of  molasses ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; three  table- 
spoonfuls  of  suet ; one  teaspoonful  of  cinnamon  ; a quarter-teaspoon- 
ful  of  soda,  stirred  into  the  milk. 

Scald  the  meal  with  the  milk  heated  to  boiling,  stir  in  suet  and 
salt,  and  let  it  get  cold ; then  add  the  eggs,  molasses  and  spice  and 
beat  faithfully ; pour  into  a ivell-buttered  mold,  and  steam,  or  boil, 
four  or  five  hours,  keeping  the  water  in  the  pot  or  steamer  at  a 
steady  boil  all  the  time.  T urn  out,  and  eat  at  once  with  hard  sauce. 


No.  41. 

BREAKFAST, 

Bulked  Sweet  Apples.  Brain  Fritters. 

Oatmeal  Griddle  Cakes  with  Maple  Syrup. 

Fruit.  Coffee.  Tea. 

Baked  Sweet  Apples. 

Wash,  wipe  and  cut  out  the  blossom-end  of  pound  sweets,  or 
other  large  sweet  apples;  and  bake  them  until  soft,  turning  them 
several  times  as  they  brown.  Sift  sugar  over  them  while  hot.  Let 
them  get  perfectly  cold,  and  eat  with  sugar  and  cream. 


478 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Brain  Fritters. 

After  washing,  and  ridding  the  brains  of  fibres  and  skin,  drop 
them  into  boiling  water,  and  cook  gently  for  fifteen  minutes,  then 
throw  into  ice-cold  water.  When  they  are  stiff  and  white,  wipe  and 
mash  them  to  a batter  with  a wooden  spoon,  seasoning  with  salt 
and  pepper.  Beat  into  this  an  egg,  half  a cup  of  milk,  and  two  or 
three  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared  flour.  Fry  a little  in  the  boiling 
fat  before  venturing  more,  drop  in  by  the  tablespoonful,  fry  quickly, 
shake  in  a heated  colander  to  free  them  of  fat,  and  serve  very  hot. 
They  are  nice. 

Oatmeal  Griddle  Cakes. 

One  cupful  of  cold  oatmeal  porridge  ; two  eggs  ; two  cupfuls  of 
buttermilk,  or  sour  cream,  or  loppered  milk  ; one  tablespoonful  of 
molasses,  or  brown  sugar  ; one  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  with  half 
a cupful  of  Graham  flour ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  teaspoon- 
ful of  butter,  melted. 

If  you  use  cream,  you  do  not  need  this  last  ingredient.  Whip 
the  eggs,  and  beat  them  into  the  porridge,  then  salt,  sugar,  butter, 
milk,  lastly,  the  Graham  flour.  Beat  and  stir  for  two  minutes  and 
bake  on  the  griddle. 

LUNCHEON. 

Chicken  or  Veal  Fondu. 

Baked  Beans.  Brown  Bread. 

Walnnt  Cake.  Chocolate. 

Chicken  or  Veal  Fondu. 

Two  cupfuls  of  finely  minced  meat ; one  cupful  of  milk,  and 
the  same  of  dry  crumbs  ; one  heaping  tablespoonful  of  butter ; three 
eggs  ; bit  of  soda  the  size  of  a pea,  in  the  milk  ; pepper  and  salt ; 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


479 


stir  the  crumbs  into  the  hot  milk,  and  cook  in  a farina-kettle  to  a 
lumpless,  smoking  batter.  Add  the  butter,  turn  into  a bowl,  and 
beat  with  a wooden  spoon  for  two  minutes.  Set  where  it  will  cool 
fast.  When  nearly  cold,  add  the  seasoning,  whipped  eggs  and  minced 
meat.  Mix  thoroughly,  beating  high  and  fast,  and  pour  into  a but- 
tered pudding-dish.  Bake  in  a good  oven,  keeping  it  covered  for 
half  an  hour.  Brown  on  the  upper  grating,  and  serve  before  it  falls. 

If  you  have  gravy  left  from  the  roast,  heat,  and  send  it  around 
with  the  fondu. 

Baked  Beans. 

Soak  a quart  of  beans  all  night.  In  tne  morning,  cover  them 
with  boiling  water,  and  set  at  the  side  of  the  range  until  swollen 
and  soft,  but  not  broken.  If  you  have  no  bean-pot,  put  them  into 
a deep  bake-dish ; thrust  a half  pound  “chunk’ ^ of  salt  pork,  par- 
boiled, and  scored  on  top,  down  into  the  beans  ; add  a teaspoonful 
of  salt,  half  as  much  made-mustard  and  a tablespoonful  of  molasses, 
to  them,  with  enough  hot  water  to  cover  them  nearly— fit  a top  on 
dish,  or  pot,  and  set  in  a slow  oven.  Bake  six  hours,  peeping  at 
them  three  or  four  times  to  see  if  they  need  more  boiling  water. 
If  so,  supply  it.  For  the  last  half-hour,  cook  them  faster  and 
uncovered.  This  is  the  genuine  New  England  dish,  and  cannot  be 
improved  upon. 


Brown  Bread. 

One-half  cup  of  Graham  flour ; one  cup,  each,  of  rye  flour  and 
Indian  meal ; one  cup  of  milk  ; one-half  cup  of  molasses  ; one  even 
teaspoonful  of  salt ; one  even  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  three  times 
with  meal  and  flour  ; one  tablespoonful  of  lard. 

Put  the  flour  and  meal,  sifted  with  salt  and  soda,  into  a bowl. 
^.Mix  milk,  lard  and  molasses  together,  warm  slightly,  and  add  to 


480 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


the  contents  of  the  bowl  gradually,  stirring  it  well.  Work  for  three 
minutes,  put  into  a greased  mold,  and  steam  for  three  hours.  liat 
while  hot. 


Walnut  Cake. 

Three  cups  of  prepared  flour  ; one  cup  of  butter,  and  two  of 
sugar ; four  eggs  ; one  cup  of  cold  water ; two  even  cupfuls  ' of 
English  walnut  kernels,  cut  into  small  bits. 

Cream  the  butter  and  sugar,  add  the  beaten  yolks,  the  water, 
then  the  flour,  and  whipped  whites  alternately,  last  of  all,  the  nuts. 
Mix  thoroughly  and  bake  in  small  tins,  or,  if  in  a large  mold,  in  one 
that  has  a funnel  in  the  center. 


DINNER. 

Potato  Soup. 

Steamed  Chicken,  Stuffed.  Oyster-Plant  Fritters. 

Scalloped  Squash. 

Sponge  Cake.  Custard. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 


Potato  Soup. 

Boil  enough  Irish  potatoes  to  make  two  cupfuls  when  mashed. 
Whip  them  light,  and  keep  hot.  Into  two  quarts  of  boiling  water 
shred  a small  onion,  two  stalks  of  refuse  celery  and  three  sprigs  of 
parsley.  Cook  until  the  vegetables  are  soft.  Put  them  through  a 
colander  with  the  water  in  which  they  were  boiled,  then  pass  the 
potato  through  Ihe  holes  into  the  same  pot.  Return  to  the  fire, 
season  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  bring  to  a gentle  boil.  Take  care 
it  does  not  burn.  Now  stir  in  four  generous  tablespoonfuls  of 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


481 


butter,  cut  up,  and  rubbed  into  two  tablespoonfuls  of  prepared 
flour.  Boil  two  minutes  more,  and  pour  out.  It  will  be  found 
delightful,  although  “ a soup  maigre.”  The  excellence  of  such 
depends  much  upon  seasoning  and  smoothness.  They  are  too  often 
watery,  insipid  and  lumpy. 


Steamed  Chicken,  Stuffed. 

Clean  and  dress  as  for  roasting.  Make  a stuffing  of  crumbs 
seasoned  with  pepper,  salt  and  butter,  then,  mix  with  a dozen 
oysters,  each  cut  into  three  pieces.  Bind  legs  and  wings  to  the 
body  with  tape,  and  put  into  a steamer  with  a closely-fitting  lid.  If 
you  have  no  steamer  (which  is  a pity)  put  the  fowl  into  a tin  pail 
with  a good  top,  and  set  in  a pot  of  cold  water.  Heat  gradually  to 
a boil,  and  if  the  fowl  be  full-grown,  cook  steadily  for  two  hours 
after  the  boil  begins.  Open  the  steamer  at  the  end  of  the  second 
hour  for  the  first  time,  and  try  the  breast  with  a fork.  If  tender, 
remove  the  chicken  to  a hot-water  dish,  and  keep  covered  while  you 
make  the  gravy.  Strain  the  gravy  from  the  steamer  or  pail  into  a 
saucepan ; stir  in  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  four  of  oyster-liquor 
(also  strained),  a tablespoonful  of  flour  wet  up  in  three  tablespoon- 
fuls of  cream,  and  a tablespoonful  of  chopped  parsley.  Bring  to  a 
boil,  stir  in  quickly  a beaten  egg,  season  to  taste,  and  pour  some  of 
it  over  the  fowl,  the  rest  into  a boat.  This  is  so  savory  a dish  that 
it  should  be  better  known. 


Oyster  Plant  Fritters. 

Scrape  the  skin  carefully  from  the  roots,  and  grate  them  into  a 
batter  made  of  one  cup  of  milk,  half  a cup  of  prepared  flour,  and 
one  beaten  egg.  Unless  the  roots  are  grated  directly  into  the  mix- 
ture, they  darken  immediately.  Season  with  salt  and  pepper ; try 


482 


HOUSE  AND  IIOMP:. 


a little  of  the  batter  in  the  hissing-hot  dripping  before  risking  more. 
If  too  thin,  add  flonr  cautiously.  If  too  solid,  put  in  more  milk. 
Drain  off  the  fat  by  shaking  each  fritter  vigorously  in  the  split 
spoon  as  yon  take  it  out  of  the  frying-pan.  Eat  while  very  hot. 


Scalloped  Squash. 

The  Hubbard,  or  green  winter  squashes,  are  best  for  this  dish 
Scrape  out  the  seeds,  pare  off  the  shell,  and  leave  in  cold  salt  and 
water  for  one  hour ; cook  in  hot  water,  a little  salt,*  until  tender. 
Mash  well,  and  let  it  cool.  When  quite  cold,  whip  into  it  a table 
spoonful  of  butter,  one  of  corn-starch  wet  up  in  half  a cup  of  milk 
(for  a large  cupful  of  squash),  three  whipped  eggs,  pepper  and  salt. 
Turn  the  mixture  into  a buttered  pudding  dish  ; strew  thickly  with 
fine  crumbs,  and  bake  in  a quick  oven. 


Sponge  Cake  Custard. 

I know  of  no  other  use  to  which  baker’s  sponge  cake  can  be  put  that 
brings  such  satisfaction  to  the  consumer  as  to  make  it  into  this  pud- 
ding. Buy  a stale  card  of  sponge  cake  ; lay  on  a stone  china  platter ; 
pour  around — not  over — it  a hot  custard  made  of  a pint  of  milk,  the 
yolks  of  three  eggs  and  three  tablespoonfuls  of  sugar  boiled  together 
until  the  mixture  begins  to  thicken.  Season  with  vanilla,  coat  the 
top  of  the  cake  thickly  with  jelly  or  jam,  and  on  this  spread  a 
meringue  of  the  whites,  beaten  stiff  witli  a tablespoonful  of  powdered 
sugar.  Set  in  the  oven  over  a dri])ping-pan  of  hot  water  until  the 
meringue  is  slightly  colored.  Eat  cold. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  483 

No.  42. 

BREAKFAST. 

Rice  Porridge.  Stewed  Eels. 

Gems.  Potato  Balls.  Fruit. 

Tea.  Cofifee. 


Rice  Porridge. 

One  cup  of  raw  rice  ; one  quart  of  boiling  water,  salted ; one  cup 
of  milk  ; beaten  whites  of  two  eggs. 

Soak  the  rice  in  cold  water  one  hour,  drain,  and  put  over  the  fire 
in  the  boiling  water,  cook  soft,  shake  up  from  the  bottom  now  and 
then,  pour  in  the  milk  heated  to  scalding,  simmer  ten  minutes,  add 
the  beaten  whites,  cook  just  one  minute,  and  serve  in  a deep  dish. 
Eat  with  sugar  and  cream.  It  is  delicate  and  nourishing. 


Stewed  Eels. 

Two  pounds  of  eels  ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; one  tea- 
spoonful  of  chopped  onion,  and  a tablespoonful  of  chopped  parsley ; 
pepper  and  salt ; one  tablespoonful  of  flour. 

Skin  and  clean  the  eels',  carefully  removing  all  the  fat,  cut 
neatly  through  the  backbone  into  pieces  two  inches  long.  Melt  the 
butter  in  a saucepan,  but  do  not  color  it  before  laying  the  pieces  of 
eel  in  it.  Sprinkle  with  onions  and  parsley,  cover  closely  and  set  in 
a vessel  of  cold  water.  Cook  gently  over  a steady  fire  for  an  hour 
and  a half  after  the  boil  begins.  The  eels  should  be  tender,  but  not 
boiled  to  rags.  Remove  them  with  a split  spoon  to  a hot-water  dish, 
stir  into  the  liquor  left  in  the  saucepan,  pepper,  salt  and  flour,  the 
latter  wet  up  with  cold  water.  Bring  to  a quick  boil,  and  pour  over 
the  eels. 


484 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 
Gems. 


Two  eggs  ; two  Clips  of  milk;  lialf-teaspoonful  of  baking-pow- 
der ; two  cups  of  sifted  flour ; half  a teaspoonful  of  salt. 

Beat  the  eggs  light,  add  the  milk  and  the  flour  with  which  have 
been  sifted  salt  and  baking-powder.  Whip  hard,  and  pour  into  but- 
tered gem-pans  already  warm.  Bake  in  a quick  oven. 


Potato  Balls. 

Work  into  a cupful  of  cold  mashed  potato  a teaspoonful  of 
melted  butter.  When  the  mixture  is  white  and  light,  add  the 
beaten  yolk  of  one  egg,  and  season  to  taste.  Make  into  balls 
between  your  floured  palms,  roll  thickly  in  flour,  and  fry  in  plenty 
of  nice  hot  dripping.  Take  up  with  a split  spoon,  shake  off  the  fat 
and  pile  on  a hot  dish. 


LUNCHEON. 

Anchovied  Toast  with  Egg  Sauce. 

Potato  Salad. 

Bread  and  Butter.  Crackers. 

Crullers.  Cafe  au  lait. 

Anchovied  Toast  with  Egg  Sauce. 

Spread  rounds  of  buttered  (crustless)  toast  with  anchovy  paste, 
and  lay  in  a heated  platter.  Have  ready  a cupful  of  drawn  butter, 
boiling  hot,  in  a farina  kettle ; beat  four  eggs  light  and  stir  them 
into  the  drawn  butter.  Season  with  pepper  (the  anchovy  should 
supply  most  of  the  salt)  and  cook  and  stir  until  you  have  a smooth 
thick  sauce.  It  should  not  clot  or  harden.  Four  minutes  should 
cook  it  sufficiently.  Pour  upon  the  toast. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  485 

Potato  Salad. 

Rub  a cupful  of  masbed  potato  through  a colander ; mix  with  it 
half  a cupful  of  shred  white  cabbage,  prepared  as  for  cold  slaw ; 
two  tablespoonfuls  of  chopped  cucumber,  or  gherkin  pickle  (or  one 
tablespoonful  of  minced  pickled  onion)  and  the  pounded  yolks  of 
two  hard-boiled  eggs.  Stir  and  incorporate  the  ingredients  faith- 
fully. Make  a dressing  as  follows  : Into  half  a cupful  of  boiling 
vinegar  stir  one  tablespoon  ful  of  melted  butter,  one  teaspoonful  of 
sugar,  one  beaten  raw  egg,  one  teaspoonful  of  flour  wet  with  cold 
vinegar,  one  teaspoonful  of  celery  essence  ; salt  and  pepper  to  taste  ; 
one  half-teaspoonful  of  mustard.  Cook  and  stir  until  you  have  a 
smooth  cream,  and  mix  hot  with  the  salad.  Toss  and  mix 
thoroughly.  Set  in  a cold  place,  or  on  the  ice  until  wanted.  It  will 
be  liked  by  all  who  eat  it.  Pass  crackers — slightly  warmed — with  it. 


Crullers. 

Six  eggs ; one  half  pound  of  butter ; three  quarters  of  a pound 
of  sugar ; flour  to  roll  out  in  a good  dough  that  will  not  adhere  to 
board  and  fingers  ; mace  and  cinnamon,  half  teaspoonful  of  each ; 
brown  sugar  and  butter. 

Mix,  and  work  in  flour,  roll  thin,  cut  into  shapes  and  drop  one 
into  a deep  frying-pan  of  boiling  lard.  If  it  rises  quickly  and  does 
not  brown  too  fast,  put  in  as  many  as  can  be  cooked  without  crowd- 
ing, taking  them  out  with  a split  spoon  when  they  are  plump  and 
of  a golden-brown  color.  Sift  powdered  sugar  over  them  while 
warm.  They  are  delicious. 

' Cafe  au  lait. 

Strain  strong  hot  coffee  into  a hot  urn  or  coffee-pot,  add  an 
equal  quantity  of  scalding  milk,  throw  a thick  cloth  or  a “ cozy  ” 
over  the  urn  and  let  it  stand  five  minutes  before  filling  the  cups. 


486 


MOUSE  AND  HOME. 

DINNER. 


Farina  Soup.  Baked  Halibut. 

Ragout  of  Mutton.  Cauliflower  an  gratin. 

Hominy  Croquettes.  Cocoanut  Custard.  Light  Cakes. 

Fruit.  Coffee. 

Farina  Soup. 

Heat  and  strain  four  cups  of  soup-stock  of  any  kind,  and  bring 
it  to  a boil.  Scald  two  cups  of  milk,  beat  three  eggs  light,  and  add 
to  them  gradually  the  hot  milk.  Heat  and  stir  until  the  sugarless 
custard  begins  to  thicken,  when  turn  into  a tureen.  Add  the  scalding 
stock,  and  stir  in,  finally,  four  tablespoonfuls  of  Parmesan  cheese, 
grated.  Pass  grated  cheese  with,  it  for  those  who  would  like  to  have 
more.  You  can  buy  real  Parmesan  cheese  ready  grated  in  bottles 
from  the  best  grocers. 


Baked  Halibut. 

Buy  the  fish  in  a thick,  solid  cut,  and  lay  in  strong  salt-and- 
water  for  an  hour  at  least.  Wipe  all  over,  cut  the  skin  on  top  criss- 
cross, just  reaching  the  flesh  below,  and  lay  in  a dripping-pan. 
Dash  a cupful  of  boiling  water  over  it,  and  cook  twelve  minutes  for 
each  pound.  Have  read}^  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter  dissolved  in 
hot  water,  mingled  with  the  juice  of  a lemon,  and  baste  often. 
When  a fork  penetrates  easily  the  thickest  part  of  the  fish,  take  it 
up  and  keep  hot  while  you  add  to  the  gravy  a teaspoonful  of  Har- 
vey’s or  Worcestershire  sauce,  and  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rubbed 
in  two  great  spoonfuls  of  browned  flour.  Should  this  make  the 
gravy  too  thick,  add  a little  boiling  water.  Boil,  and  strain  into 
sauce-boat. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  4S7 

Ragout  of  Mutton. 

Coarser  chops  than  those  sold  as  “ French,”  will  do  for  this  dish. 
Heat  half  a cupful  of  clarified  dripping,  or  as  much  butter,  in  a frying- 
pan  ; put  in  half  of  an  onion  sliced,  cook  three  minutes,  and  lay  in 
the  chops  dredged  with  flour.  Fry  quickly  until  they  begin  to 
brown  nicely ; take  up  with  a split  spoon,  and  put  into  a saucepan, 
add  a tablespoonful  of  chopped  parsley,  and  a pinch  of  powdered 
thyme  ; cover  with  cold  water  ; put  a close  lid  on  the  saucepan,  and 
cook  very  slowly  for  two  hours,  or  until  the  meat  is  ready  to  fall 
from  the  bones.  Lift  it,  piece  by  piece,  to  a hot-water  dish  ; skim 
the  gravy,  pepper  and  salt  it,  and  add  half  a can  of  green  peas  which 
have  been  drained  and  laid  in  cold  water  for  an  hour.  Stew  until 
soft,  rub  through  a colander ; stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in 
browned  flour  ; boil  up  once,  and  pour  over  the  meat. 

Cauliflower  an  gratin. 

Wash  carefully  ; tie  up  in  mosquito-netting,  and  boil  thirty  min- 
utes in  hot  salted  water.  Undo  the  netting,  and  lay  the  cauliflower, 
blossom  upward,  in  a pudding-dish.  Pour  a cupful  of  drawn  butter 
over  it,  strew  with  dry  crumbs,  and  brown  lightly  on  the  upper 
grating  of  the  oven.  Send  round  with  it  drawn  butter  in  which  has 
been  squeezed  the  juice  of  a lemon. 

Hominy  Croquettes. 

Rub  a cup  of  cold  boiled  “ small  ” hominy  smooth  with  a table- 
spoonful of  soft  butter.  When  you  have  worked  them  well  together, 
add  a beaten  egg,  a tablespoonful  of  sugar  and  a little  salt.  Beat 
up  well,  flour  your  hands  and  make  into  croquettes,  rolling  each 
over  and  over  on  a thickly  floured  dish.  Set  aside  for  some  hours  in 
a cold  place,  and  fry  in  hot  lard.  Drain  off  every  drop  of  grease  in 
a colander,  and  serve  the  croquettes  on  a hot  flat  dish. 


488 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


CocoANur  Custard. 

Grate  a cocoauut,  and  set  aside,  while  you  heat  a quart  of  milk 
in  a farina-kettle  (dropping  in  a tiny  bit  of  soda).  Add  a cupful  of 
sugar,  pour  the  sweetened  milk  upon  six  beaten  eggs,  and  leave  over 
the  fire  until  just  lukewarm.  Then  season  with  vanilla,  or  bitter 
almond,  stir  in  the  cocoanut,  turn  into  a buttered  pudding-dish, 
and  set  at  once  in  the  oven  to  bake  to  a yellow-brown.  Eat  cold 
with  light  cakes. 

No.  43. 

BREAKFAST. 

Golden  Mush. 

A Winter  Hen’s  Nest.  Graham  Biscuit. 

Potatoes  ail  Maitre  Ho teL 
Fruit.  Tea.  Coffee. 


Golden  Mush. 

Scald  a cup  of  granulated  yellow  meal  with  a pint  of  boiling 
water  over  night.  In  the  morning  put  a pint  of  milk  and  a cup  of 
boiling  water,  salted,  into  a farina-kettle,  and  when  it  boils,  stir  in 
the  soaked  meal.  Cook,  stirring  often,  for  one  hour.  Eat  with 
sugar  and  cream. 

A Winter  Hen’s  Nest. 

Boil  eight  eggs  hard,  and  throw  them  into  cold  water.  When 
cool,  take  off  the  shells  carefully,  divide  the  whites,  and  extract  the 
yolks.  Mash  them  to  powder,  and  mix  with  twice  as  much  minced 
chicken,  turkey,  duck,  veal,  lamb,  or  ham.  Make  into  egg-shaped 
balls  when  you  have  worked  a spoonful  of  butter  into  the  paste, 


WINTER  BILLS  OP  FARE. 


489 


season  it,  and  heap  on  a hot-water  dish.  Cut  the  whites  into  fine 
shreds,  arrange  them  about  the  balls  to  simulate  straw,  and  pour  a 
cupful  of  good  gravy,  scalding  hot,  over  all.  The  dish  needs  no 
other  cooking,  if  there  is  boiling  water  under  the  platter.  If  not,  set 
in  the  oven  for  ten  minutes. 

Graham  Biscuit. 

One  pint  of  Graham  flour,  and  half  as  much  rye  ; one  heaping 
eablespoonful  of  butter,  and  an  even  one  of  lard  ; two-and-a-half 
cups  of  lukewarm  milk,  as  fresh  as  possible ; one  tablespoonful  of 
sugai.. 

One  teaspoonful  of  salt,  and  two  teaspoon fuls  of  Royal  baking- 
powder,  sifted  twice  through  the  flour.  Rub  butter  and  lard  into  the 
salted  and  sifted  flour,  stir  the  sugar  into  the  milk,  and  wet  the  flour 
into  a soft  dough.  Handle  lightly,  roll  out  with  a few  strokes  into  a 
sheet  half  an  inch  thick,  cut  into  cakes,  prick  them,  and  bake  in  a 
steady  oven.  They  are  good,  warm  or  cold. 


Potatoes  au  Maitre  d? Hotel. 

Cut  cold  boiled  potatoes  into  small  dice,  pepper  and  salt  them, 
heat  a cup  of  milk  to  a boil,  add  a great  spoonful  of  butter  rolled 
in  flour,  and  a tablespoonful  of  chopped  parsley.  When  it  thickens, 
put  in  the  potatoes,  and  simmer  until  they  are  hot  all  through  ; 
remove  from  the  range,  stir  in  quickly  the  juice  of  half  a lemon, 
and  as  much  grated  lemon-peel  as  will  lie  on  a silver  half-dime. 
Serve  hot. 


LUNCHEON. 

How  to  use  the  last  of  “ Th'  Mutton.” 

Cheese  Bars.  Bread  aud  Butte'  Pickles. 

Scalloped  Tomatoes.  Soft  _ aisin  Gingerbread. 


490  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

How  TO  Use  the  Last  oe  “That  Mutton.” 

Cut  every  bit  from  the  bone,  and  mince  it  rather  finely. 
Have  ready  a cupful  of  good  gravy.  You  can  cut  the  meat 
from  the.  bones  early  in  the  day,  crack,  and  make  the  broth 
from  them  if  you  have  no  ether.  If  you  have  half  a can  of  mush- 
rooms in  the  pantry,  mince,  and  add  them  to  the  mutton  ; also  a 
very  little  onion  pickle  chopped.  Season  the  gravy  highly,  and  wet 
the  mince  with  it.  Put  a layer  of  fine  crumbs  in  a greased  pudding- 
dish,  pour  in  the  chopped  meat,  sift  more  crumbs  over  it,  cover 
closely,  and  set  in  the  oven  until  the  gravy  bubbles  up  through  it^ 
Draw  to  the  oven-door,  and  pour  on  the  surface  four  or  five  eggs, 
beaten  light,  then  mixed  with  three  tablespoonfuls  of  cream.  Drop 
minute  bits  of  butter  on  the  egg,  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  shut  up 
until  the  omelette  crust  is  set.  Serve  at  once  in  the  pudding  dish. 


Cheese  Bars. 

Make  these  on  “ pastry  day  ” from  the  pieces  leftover  from  pies. 
Cut  strips,  three  inches  long,  and  two  inches  wide.  Cover  the  upper 
side  thickly  with  grated  cheese,  and  the  merest  dust  of  cayenne, 
fold  the  pastry  lengthwise  over  this,  sift  cheese  on  the  top,  and  bake 
quickly.  Eat  hot. 


Scalloped  Tomatoes. 

Cover  the  bottom  of  a buttered  pie-plate  with  fine  crumbs,  salted 
and  peppered ; drain  the  juice  from  a can  of  tomatoes,  season  them 
with  butter,  salt,  pepper,  '>  little  sugar,  and  half  a teaspoonful  of 
onion,  minced  very  finely  Pour  this  into  the  pie-dish,  and  cover 
with  a thick  coat  of  rumbs.  Stick  dots  of  butter  on  this, 
sprinkle  with  salt  and  lepper,  cover,  and  bake  for  half  an  hour,  then 
brown. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  491 

Soft  Raisin  Gingerbread. 

One  cup,  each,  of  sugar,  butter,  molasses,  and  sour  cream,  or 
milk — cream  is  best ; one  scant  cup  of  seeded  raisins  ; one  teaspoon- 
ful of  mixed  mace  and  cinnamon  ; one  teaspoonful  of  ginger ; one 
rounded  teaspoonful  of  soda,  sifted  twice  with  four  full  cups  of  flour ; 
two  eggs. 

Rub  butter  and  sugar  to  a cream,  then  beat  in  the  molasses  and 
spice,  working  it  until  it  is  several  shades  lighter  than  when  you 
began.  Add  the  eggs  whipped  light,  the  milk,  at  last  the  flour. 
Stir  well,  put  in  the  raisins  dredged  thickly,  and  beat  two  minutes 
upward.  Bake  in  shallow  “ cards  ” or  in  patty-pans.  Eat  warm 
with  cheese. 

DINNER. 

Vegetable  Family  Soup. 

Scalloped  Oysters.  Stewed  Duck.  Glazed  Potatoes. 

Canned  Peas. 

Suet  Pudding.  J^Fy  Sauce. 

Fruit.  . Coffee. 

Vegetable  Family  Soup. 

Two  pounds  of  lean  beef  cut  into  dice  ; one  onion ; one  large 
carrot ; one  turnip ; quarter  of  a cabbage  heart ; two  fair-sized 
potatoes  ; one  tablespoonful  of  minced  parsley  ; two  stalks  of  celery ; 
pepper  and  salt ; three  quarts  of  cold  w^ter ; browned  flour. 

Put  the  beef  over  the  fire  in  the  cold  water,  and  cook  slowly 
three  hours.  An  hour  before  taking  it  from  the  fire,  prepare  the 
vegetables.  Shred  the  cabbage,  cut  turnips,  celer}^  carrots  and 
potatoes  into  dice ; slice  the  onion,  and  fry  it  brown.  Cook  half 
an  hour  in  boiling  salted  water,  all  except  the  onion.  Drain  the 


492 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


water  off,  and  throw  away.  I^y  tliis  time  the  meat  should  be 
tender,  but  not  in  shreds.  Add  the  parboiled  vegetables  and  onion 
to  it  and  the  broth,  put  in  the  parsley  ; pepper  and  salt  to  taste. 
Cook  all  for  twenty  minutes,  slowly  stir  in  a great  spoonful  of 
browned  flour  wet  with  cold  water,  boil  up,  and  pour  out. 

Scalloped  Owsters. 

Put  a layer  of  cracker-crumbs  in  the  bottom  of  a buttered  pud- 
ding-dish, pepper  and  salt,  and  cover  with  raw  oysters,  season  these 
with  bits  of  butter,  and  a little  pepper,  and  pour  on  a few  spoonfuls 
of  milk  and  oyster  licpior  ; more  crumbs,  and  more  oysters,  until 
your  dish  is  full,  the  top-layer  being  crumbs,  dotted  with  butter, 
and  wet  with  milk.  Do  not  make  the  cracker  strata  too  thick  ; give 
the  oyster  honor  above  the  “ scallop ; ” bake,  covered,  until  the 
moisture  bubbles  to  the  surface,  then  brown  lightly.  Serve  with 
sliced  lemon,  bread  and  butter. 

Stewed  Duck. 

Joint  neatly,  cover  the  bottom  of  a saucepan  with  thin  slices  of 
salt  pork  ; pepper,  and  lay  in  pieces  of  duck,  another  layer  of  salt 
pork  on  the  top,  and  cover  with  sliced  onion ; fit  on  a close  lid,  set 
at  the  back  of  the  range,  and  cook  slowly  until  tender.  An  old 
duck  will  require  four  hours,  but  will  be  good  when  conquered.  Take 
up  the  meat,  and  keep  hot.  Strain  the  gravy  ; add  a little  powdered 
sage,  parsley,  a teaspoonful  of  currant-jelly  and  a tablespoonful  of 
browned  flour.  Boil  up  sharply,  and  pour  over  the  duck. 


Glazed  Potatoes. 

Peel,  then  boil  whole ; dry  off  at  the  back  of  the  range,  lay  in 
a dripping-pan,  salt,  Initter  liberally,  and  brown  in  a quick  oven, 
basting  with  butter,  from  lime  to  time. 


493 


. WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 

Canned  Peas. 

Get  the  best  French  peas.  Empty  the  can  two  hours  before  cook- 
ing them,  drain  off,  and  throw  away  the  liquid,  and  lay  the  peas  in 
ice-cold  water,  slightly  salted.  When  yon  are  ready  to  cook  them, 
put  them  over  the  fire  in  boiling  salted  water,  and  boil  for  fifteen 
minutes.  Drain  well,  butter  and  season. 

Suet  Pudding. 

Three  cups  of  flour ; half  a cup  of  powdered  suet ; two  cups  of 
sour  milk ; one  rounded  teaspoonful  of  soda^  sifted  twice  with  the 
flour ; one  teaspoonful  of  salt ; half  a cup  of  raisins,  seeded  and 
chopped. 

Put  the  flour,  sifted  with  salt  and  soda,  into  a bowl ; make  a 
hole  in  the  middle,  and  pour  in  the  milk  gradually.  Lastly,  add 
suet  and  raisins,  mixed  together  and  dredged  with  flour.  Boil  or 
steam  in  a buttered  mold  for  three  hours.  Eat  with  jelly  sauce. 

Jeeey  Sauce. 

Dilute  half  a cup  of  currant  j elly  with  a cup  of  boiling  water ; 
stir  in  two  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  and  double  the  quantity  of  pow- 
dered sugar.  Set  over  the  fire,  and  when  it  boils,  add  the  juice  of 
a lemon,  a little  nutmeg,  and  an  even  teaspoonful  of  corn-starch 
wet  with  cold  water.  Boil  up  again,  and  set  in  hot  water  until 
needed. 

No.  4:4:. 

BREAKFAST. 

Farina.  Salt  Mackerel  with  White  Sauce.  Stewed  Potatoes. 

Quick  Biscuit.  Cold  Bread. 


Butter. 


Coffee. 


Tea. 


Fruit. 


494 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 

Farina. 


Two  cups  of  milk,  and  the  same  of  boiling  water ; four  heaping 
tablespoonfuls  of  farina  ; half  a teaspoonful  of  salt ; a tiny  bit  of 
soda  in  the  milk. 

Heat  the  water  in  a farina  kettle,  and  when  it  boils,  stir  in  the 
farina  wet  up  with  the  milk.  Cook  for  twenty  minutes,  stirring 
and  beating  faithfully.  At  the  last,  put  into  a clean  Dover  egg- 
beater  and  give  a dozen  whirls  before  pouring  into  a deep  dish. 
Eat  with  milk  and  sugar. 


Salt  Mackerel  with  White  Sauce. 

Soak  the  fish  all  night  in  cold  water ; wash  it  well  with  a whisk 
broom  to  get  off  salt  and  loose  scales,  and  lay  in  boiling  water ; cook 
gently  for  twenty-five  minutes  ; drain,  and  lift  carefully  to  a hot 
dish.  Have  ready  a cup  of  boiling  milk  in  which  has  been  stirred 
a tablespoonful  of  butter  rolled  in  one  of  flour.  Beat  into  this  the 
white  of  an  egg,  whipped  stiff,  boil  and  stir  for  one  minute,  season 
with  salt  and  pepper,  and  pour  over  the  fish. 


Quick  Biscuit. 

Sift  a quart  of  Steven’s  Imperoyal  Flour  into  a bowl,  rub  in  a 
heaping  tablespoonful  of  butter — mix  up  quickly  with  milk — or 
water,  if  more  convenient — into  a soft  dough.  Roll  out,  with  few 
and  rapid  strokes,  into  a sheet  nearly  half  an  inch  thick,  cut  with 
a biscuit  cutter  into  round  cakes,  and  bake  in  a brisk  oven.  The}^ 
are  exceedingly  nice. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 
Stewed  PotatoEvS. 


495 


Heat  a cup  of  milk  to  scalding  ; stir  in  a tablespoonful  of  but- 
ter cut  up  in  a rounded  teaspoonful  of  corn-starch  ; season  with  salt 
and  pepper,  and  a teaspoonful  of  minced  parsley ; boil  one  minute, 
and  drop  in  cold  boiled  potatoes,  cut  into  dice.  Simmer  gently 
until  the  potatoes  are  hot  all  through  and  serve.  A good  way  of 
using  “ left  over  ” boiled  or  baked  potatoes. 


LUNCHEON. 

Veal  and  Macaroni  Scallop. 

Cheese  Fondu.  Bread  and  Butter. 

Baked  Sweet  Apples  and  Cake. 


Veae  and  Macaroni  Scallop. 

If  you  have  no  cold  boiled  or  baked  macaroni  left  from  yesterday’s 
dinner,  boil  a quarter-pound  until  tender ; drain,  and  cool  it  quickly  to 
make  it  the  more  crisp  ; cut  with  a sharp  knife  into  half-inch 
lengths.  In  another  vessel  chop  about  a pound  of  cold  boiled, 
or  roast  veal ; season  with  pepper,  salt,  a scant  teaspoonful  of  curry, 
a pinch  of  lemon  peel.  Into  a buttered  bake-dish  put  a layer  of  mac- 
aroni, sprinkle  with  pepper  and  salt,  and  wet  with  the  milk  ; cover 
this  with  a stratum  of  the  chopped  meat,  dot  with  bits  of  butter, 
and  proceed  thus  until  your  materials  are  all  used  up.  When  all 
are  in,  smooth  the  top  layer,  which  should  be  of  meat ; butter  well, 
cover  with  two  beaten  eggs  in  which  has  been  mixed  a teaspoonful 
of  curry  wet  with  cream ; strew  profusely  with  fine  crumbs,  cover, 
and  set  in  a good  oven  for  fifteen  minutes,  or  until  heated  through, 
when  brown  quickly  on  the  upper  grating. 


496 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Cheese  Fondu. 

Two  cups  of  sweet  milk ; three  beaten  eggs  ; a cupful  of  dry,  grated 
cheese ; one  rounded  cup  of  bread  crumbs,  very  fine  and  dry ; one 
tablespoonful  of  melted  butter  ; half  a teaspoouful  of  salt,  and  half 
as  much  pepper  ; bit  of  soda,  the  size  of  a pea,  stirred  into  the  milk. 

Set  the  crumbs  to  soak  in  the  milk;  mix  with  this,  when  it  is  a soft 
paste,  the  eggs,  butter,  seasoning,  finally,  the  cheese  ; beat  hard  and 
fast,  pour  into  a buttered  pudding-dish,  sift  fine  crumbs  on  top,  and 
bake  in  a quick  oven  until  high  and  delicately  browned.  Send  at 
once  to  table,  as  it  soon  falls  and  becomes  heavy.  Yon  may  use 
cayenne,  instead  of  black  pepper  if  yon  like,  putting  but  a third  as 
much  as  yon  would  of  black. 

Baked  Sweet  Apples. 

Peel  carefully,  and  dig  out  blossom  and  stem-ends  with  a sharp 
knife  until  the  core  is  reached,  hut  do  not  extract  the  seeds.  Put 
into  a pan,  add  a cupful  of  cold  water,  and  bake,  closely  covered, 
until  tender.  Drain  the  liquor  through  a strainer,  and  set  aside  for 
syrup.  Pack  the  apples  in  a wide-mouthed  bowl,  or  jar  with  a close 
cover,  and  keep  warm  while  yon  add  a cupful  of  sugar  to  each  one  of 
apple-liquor  and  boil  fast,  without  stirring,  until  it  is  a good  thick 
syrup.  Drop  in  as  matiy  whole  cloves  as  you  have  apples,  and  pour 
hot  over  the  fruit  in  the  jar.  Set  away,  still  covered,  for  twenty-four 
hours  ; turn  into  a glass  dish,  and  eat  with  plain  cup-cake.  If  the 
apples  are  carefully  handled  in  cooking,  this  will  be  a handsome,  as 
well  as  palatable  sweetmeat. 

DINNER. 

Russian  Soup.  Salmon  Pudding,  with  Lemon  Sauce. 

Roast  Rabbits.  Potatoes  an  Milan.  Cold  Slaw. 

Graham  Phuit  Pudding.  Hard  Sauce.  Fruit.  Coffee. 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE.  497 

Russian  Soup. 

Make  a good  clear  soup  by  covering  two  pounds  of  lean  beef  and 
one  of  veal  (all  chopped)  with  three  quarts  of  cold  water,  and 
slowly  boiling  it  down  to  half  the  quantity  of  liquor.  Salt  and  pep- 
per and  leave  the  meat  in  until  cold.  Skim  off  all  the  fat,  strain 
out  the  meat  without  pressing  it ; color  with  a tablespoonful  of 
caramel  made  by  burning  two  spoonfuls  of  sugar  in  a cup,  then 
adding  as  much  boiling  water.  Heat  slowly  to  the  boil,  and  pour 
into  the  tureen.  Lay  on  the  surface  six  or  eight  nicely-poached 
eggs,  and  serve  one  with  each  plateful  of  soup.  A glass  of  wine 
improves  the  flavor. 

Salmon  Pudding  with  Lemon  Sauce. 

One  can  of  salmon ; three  eggs  ; a scant  cup  of  fine  crumbs  ; 
three  tablespoonfuls  of  melted  butter ; salt,  and  a pinch  of  cayenne 
pepper;  juice  of  half  a lemon  and  a pinch  of  grated  lemon  peel. 

Drain  the  fish  dry  (setting  aside  the  liquor)  and  mince  it  finely. 
Mix  with  butter,  crumbs,  seasoning,  and  beat  in  the  eggs.  Turn 
into  a buttered  mold  with  a tight  top,  and  set  in  a pot  of  hot  water, 
which  keep  at  a fast  boil  for  one  hour.  The  water  should  not  rise 
over  the  top  of  the  mold.  Dip  the  latter  into  cold  water  to  loosen 
the  contents  from  the  sides  and  turn  out  the  pudding  upon  a hot 
platter.  The  sauce  must  be  ready  to  pour  over  it  when  this  is  done. 
Mix  in  a saucepan  three  tablespoonfuls  of  butter,  the  juice  of  a 
lemon,  a pinch  of  grated  peel  and  the  same  of  powdered  mace,  with 
pepper  and  salt.  Heat  to  scalding  by  setting  it  in  hot  water  over 
the  fire,  then  pour  on  two  whipped  eggs,  beating  in  hard.  Pour 
upon  the  pudding. 

Roasted  Rabbits. 

Skin,  clean  carefully,  and  fill  with  a forcemeat  of  crumbs  and  fat 
pork  chopped  very  fine,  with  seasoning  to  taste.  Some  insist  upon 


498 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


adding  minced  onion.  Sew  up  the  ral)bit.s  and  cover  with  thin 
slices  of  fat  pork  bound  on  with  pack  thread.  Roast  longer  tlian 
you  would  fowls  of  the  same  weight — say  two  minutes  more  for 
each  pound.  Baste  freely,  at  the  last,  mingling  a little  vinegar 
with  the  dripping.  Unbind  the  strings,  remove  the  crisp  pork  and 
draw  out  the  thread  from  the  rabbits.  Lay  the  pork  around  them 
in  a hot  dish.  Thicken  the  strained  gravy  with  browned  flour,  boil 
up,  and  send  to  table  in  a boat. 


Potatoes  an  Milan. 

Whip  mealy  boiled  potatoes  to  powder  with  a fork ; add  enough 
butter  and  milk  to  make  a creamy  paste,  the  beaten  yolks  of  two 
eggs,  pepper  and  salt.  At  the  last  whip  in  the  stiffly-frothed  whites. 
Heap  on  a well-buttered  pie-plate,  wash  over  with  melted  butter,  and 
brown  lightly  on  the  top  grating  of  a quick  oven.  Slip  a spatula 
under  the  mound,  and  lift  carefully  to  a heated  platter. 


Cold  Slaw. 

Shred  a hard  white  eabbage  with  a sharp  knife  (never  ehop  it). 
Put  into  an  ice-bowl  just  before  dinner,  and  cover  with  this  dress- 
ing, stirring  and  tossing  with  a silver  fork: — Beat  the  yolks  of  three 
raw  eggs  stiff,  adding  gradually  three  tablespoonfuls  of  oil,  and 
when  the  mixture  is  thick,  a teaspoonful  of  white  sugar,  one  of  salt, 
half  as  much  made  mustard,  a pinch  of  cayenne,  and  four  table^ 
spoonfuls  of  vinegar.  Mix  the  dressing  in  a bowl  set  in  ice  or 
snow. 

Graham  Fruit  Pudding. 

One  and  a half  cups  of  Graham  flour  ; two  eggs  ; half  a cup 
of  milk  ; half  a cup  of  finely  chopped  suet ; a cup  of  currants  (well 


WINTER  BILLS  OF  FARE. 


499 


washed)  and  seeded  raisins,  mixed  ; half  a cup  of  best  molasses  ; 
a teaspoonfiil  of  cinnamon  and  mace  mixed  ; a teaspoonful  of  salt, 
and  a half  teaspoonful  of  soda  stirred  into  the  milk. 

Warm  molasses,  suet  and  spices  slightly  together,  and  stir  hard 
until  cool ; add  the  beaten  eggs,  milk,  salt,  flour,  and  lastly  the 
fruit  well  dredged  with  flour  ; beat  up  well,  pour  into  a buttered 
mold  and  boil  or  steam  for  nearly  three  hours.  Turn  out  and  eat 
hot. 


Hard  Sauce. 

Four  tablespoonfuls  of  butter ; eight  of  powdered  sugar  ; 
frothed  white  of  an  egg  ; nutmeg  ; half  a glass  of  wine. 

Cream  butter  and  sugar  to  feathery  lightness  ; add  wine,  spice, 
then  the  white  of  the  egg,  and  set  in  a cold  place  to  harden. 

(End  of  Menus.) 


The  Christmas  Dinner. 

IN  ornamenting  the  table,  the  march  of  aesthetic  taste  (or  fashion) 
has,  without  so  much  as  “ by-your-leave,”  swept  from  our  fes- 
tive boards,  and  banished  to  attic  and  the  rubbish-shelves  of 
closets,  the  china  and  majolica  “flower-pieces’’  which  were 
lately  our  innocent  pride.  Most  practical  housewives,  especially 
those  of  moderate  incomes,  deprecate  the  innovation  of  center-cloths 
of  linen  embroidered  with  bright  silks,  or  squares  and  ovals  of  vel- 
vet and  plush  on  which  the  flower-stand  is  set. 

Better  than  this  is  the  simple  mode  of  arranging  ferns  and  blos- 
soms in  an  old-fashioned  china  bowl,  or  one  that  looks  as  if  it  had 
come  from  a great-grandmother’s  cupboard,  or  in  a glass  dish  with- 
out feet  or  stem. 

The  flowers  should  have  long  and  real  stalks,  and  be  set  in  the 
water  loosely  with  due  regard  to  gracefully  careless  group- 
ings. The  day  of  rose-buds,  orange-blossoms  and  japonicas,  tied 
with  wire  and  bound  into  the  stumpy  formality  of  brooms,  has  gone 
by  together  with  the  close  rows  of  leafless  blooms  packed  into  banks 
and  pillows,  and  crowding  straight-sided  glass  shapes,  like  the  forms 
one  sees  in  an  undertaker’s  window. 

A low  dish  of  ferns,  scarlet  geraniums  and  white  carnations, 
eupatoria,  or  other  snowy  flower,  having  for  a base  a round  mirror 

500 


THE  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 


501 

upon  which  some  stray  leaves  and  blossoms  have  fallen,  as  by  acci- 
dent, is  an  elegant  ornament  for  a Christmas  dinner. 

Evergreens,  such  as  v/ere  wreathed  about  pictures,  window  and 
door  frames,  are  not  amenable  to  the  requirements  of  the  occasion, 
being  hard  and  stiff  in  form  and  in  color  too  uniform. 

For  it  should  be  remembered  that  Christmas  is  not  like  Thanks- 
giving, a national  feast  of  the  season.  The  emotions  that  recur 
with  its  coming  belong  to  the  whole  world  and  to  all  time.  To 
crown  the  day  aright  in  view  of  the  event  it  commemorates,  we 
should  bring  richer  gifts  than  those  which  symbolize  our  gratitude 
for  the  ingathering  of  the  harvest.  If  there  is  but  one  flower  in 
bloom  among  the  house-plants  on  this  glad  morning,  let  it  be  culled 
to  embellish  our  feast. 

Let  raw  oysters  be  an  introductory  course.  Open  these  an  hour 
before  they  are  to  be  eaten,  and  set  them  on  the  ice.  Wash  the 
shells,  and  put  them  likewise  in  the  ice-box. 

Unless  you  have  oyster-plates  with  cavities  prepared  for  the 
bivalves,  serve  them  upon  these  cooled  half-shells,  and  not  on  a flat 
surface,  where  they  will  slide  about  and  leak  all  over  the  china. 
Arrange  six  shells,  an  oyster  within  each,  on  a dessert  plate,  the 
narrow  part  of  the  shells  inward,  and  meeting  in  the  center  where  a 
quarter  of  lemon  is  laid. 

Pass  oyster  or  cream  crackers  in  addition  to  the  squares  or  strips 
of  bread  already  on  the  napkins. 

No  minor  table-fashion  is  more  sensible  than  the  custom  of 
keeping  pepper  in  small  silver  vessels  of  fanciful  shapes,  such  as 
owls,  monkeys,  etc.,  with  pierced  covers.  One  of  these  articles  is 
within  reach  of  every  hand. 

The  disappearance  of  the  clumsy  and  always  remote  “ castor’’ 
is  a joy  to  those  who  remember  the  insipidity  of  viands  for  which 


502 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


vSalt,  vinegar  and  pepper  did  not  reach  him  until  the  meal  was  nearly 
concluded. 

Mock-tnrtle  soup  comes  with  grateful  piquancy  and  generous 
richness  to  the  lovers  of  good  living  on  a mid-winter  gala-day  when 
there  is  plenty  of  time  for  digestion,  and  light  hearts  to  aid  in  the 
assimilation. 

Deviled  lobster,  made  comparatively  innocuous  by  the  use  of 
cayenne,  instead  of  black  pepper,  and  served  attractively  in  silver 
scallop-shells  if  you  have  them — in  clam-shells,  if  you  have  not — 
follows  harmoniously  in  line.  These  are  eaten  with  the  fork  alone, 
as  were  the  oysters. 

Withhold  vegetables  until  the  next  course — breaded  chops 
trimmed  a la  francaise  by  your  butcher.  That  is,  the  skin,  gristly 
parts  and  most  of  the  fat  are  cut  away,  leaving  nearly  two  inches  of 
clean  bone  at  the  small  end. 

When  the  chops  are  done,  let  the  cook  wind  about  this  bone  a 
piece  of  white  tissue  paper  four  inches  long  and  two  wide,  fringed 
on  the  outer  edge  for  more  than  half  the  width. 

With  the  chops  send  around  canned  French  peas.  Open  the 
cans  two  hours  at  least  before  cooking,  drain  off  all  the  liquid,  rinse 
the  peas  in  clean  water,  shake  them  in  a colander,  and  leave  in  a 
cold  place  until  they  are  wanted  for  cooking.  Then  set  them  over 
the  fire  in  boiling  water,  slightly  salted.  Drop  in  a very  small  lump 
of  loaf-sugar  and  cook  them  gently  twenty  minutes.  Drain  thor- 
oughly, stir  in  a large  spoonful  of  butter,  pepper  and  salt  to  taste, 
and  turn  into  a hot,  deep  dish. 

Canned  peas  thus  treated  lose  the  close,  smoky  flavor  that  too 
often  spoils  them  for  most  people,  and  taste  surprisingly  like  fresh 
green  ones.  Baked,  scalloped,  or  stewed  tomatoes  should  attend 
this  course. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 


503 


A mighty  turkey,  although  altogether  an  fait  at  Christmas,  is, 
to  the  minds  of  some  especially  punctilious  Thanksgiving  Day 
keepers,  less  a “ must-be  ” than  at  the  November  anniversary. 

Should  your  culinary  conscience  or  the  family  appetite  demand 
the  sacrifice  of  the  Bird  of  Plenty,  garnish  him  with  fried  oysters, 
carefully  crumbed  and  cooked  to  a nicety.  In  helping,  put  an  oys- 
ter with  each  apportionment  of  meat.  Cranberry  sauce  is  always 
passed  with  roast  turkey. 

A haunch  or  saddle  of  venison  is,  however,  a noble  substitute 
for  the  provincial  piece  de  resistance.  Purchase  it  a week  beforehand, 
hang  it  in  the  cold  cellar,  wash  it  off  every  day  with  vinegar,  and  on 
Christmas  morning  with  warm,  then  with  cold  water. 

Wipe  it  perfectly  dry  ; encase  in  a stiff  paste  of  flour  and  water, 
and  this  in  two  layers  of  thick  white  wrapping  paper.  Fill  the 
dripping-pan  one-third  full  of  hot  water,  and  baste  often  with  this, 
adding  to  it  from  the  teakettle  should  it  evaporate  too  fast. 

Keep  the  paper  from  scorching  by  basting,  and  you  need  not  fear 
for  the  meat.  Three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  dinner,  take  it  from 
the  pan,  strip  off  the  coverings,  test  with  a fork  to  make  sure  that  it 
is  done ; return  to  the  oven,  rub  well  with  butter,  and  as  this  is 
absorbed,  dredge  with  flour.  Repeat  the  butter-baste  three  or  four 
times  while  the  meat  is  browning.  This  will  form  a fine  “ glaze.” 

For  gravy,  stir  into  that  in  the  dripping-pan  after  the  meat  is 
dished,  a little  brown  flour  for  thickening,  a teaspoonful  of  walnut 
catsup,  a great  spoonful  of  currant  jelly  and  the  juice  of  half  a 
lemon.  Garnish  the  venison  with  alternate  slices  of  lemon  and 
pickled  beet-root  laid  on  the  edge  of  the  dish. 

For  vegetables  (which  are  always  passed  from  the  buffet  or  side 
table) , have  boiled  cauliflower  with  drawn  butter  poured  over  it,  and 
potatoes  augratin.  That  is,  mound  the  potatoes,  smoothly  mashed 
with  butter  and  milk,  upon  a pie-plate,  butter  and  strew  thickly 


5^4 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


with  dry  bread-crumbs,  then  brown  lightly  in  tlic  oven.  Slip  care- 
fully to  a heated  platter. 

Currant  jelly  or  grape  belongs  as  naturally  to  venison  as  docs 
cranberry  to  turkey. 

Chicken-salad,  with  a mayonnaise-dressing,  may  come  next. 
Sprinkle  the  top  with  pickled  capers,  and  garnish  around  the  sides 
with  hard-boiled  eggs,  cut  into  quarters,  and  white  celery  tops. 

Next,  crackers,  cheese  and  olives,  and  having  lingered  a reason- 
able time  (a  phrase  of  much  meaning  in  this  connection)  over  these, 
give  the  order  for  the  entrance  of  the  mincE-piEvS. 

There  is  no  cross-cut  to  excellence  in  the  manufacture  of  this 
dainty.  Advertisements  of,  and  receipts  for  “ Mince-meat  made 
easy,”  are  traps  for  the  unwary,  the  hard-pressed,  the  lazy. 

Meat  should  be  boiled  and  chopped,  suet  crumbed,  raisins 
stoned,  sultanas  and  currants  washed,  citron  shred,  apples  pared  and 
minced,  sugar  and  spices  weighed  and  measured,  and  liquor  poured 
out  with  deliberate  thought-taking,  and  the  ingredients  compounded 
at  least  a week  before  the  crust  is  made,  that  the  mixture  may 
ripen  and  mellow. 

The  paste  must  be  the  best  of  the  year,  the  shells  be  liberally 
filled  and  the  contents  criss-crossed  with  serrated  or  twisted  bands 
of  crust. 

When  the  ^ knife  enters  the  generous  bosom  of  the  Christmas- 
pie,  the  whiff  of  fragrance  escaping  from  the  cut  should  set  every 
pulse  a-beating  to  the  lively  rhythm  of  old  “ Greenland ; ” the 
flower  bedight  table  should  become  a “ Ceylon’s  Isle  ” in  beauty  and 
balminess. 

Everybody,  except  hopelessly  confirmed  dyspeptics,  should  taste 
mince-pie  on  Christmas  day.  If  properly  made,  it  is  far  less  harm- 
ful than  dietetic  (and  vegetarian)  pessimists  would  persuade  us 


THE  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 


505 


into  believing.  Grated,  or  powdered  old  cheese  is  a pleasant 
adjunct  to  it,  and  to  some  extent,  a corrective  of  possible  evil  con- 
sequences. 

Ices  and  jellies  cool  the  system  after  the  highly-seasoned 
pastries,  and  link  the  cooked  sweets  agreeably  with  fruits  au 
natureL 

A pretty  fancy-dish  is  made  by  filling  with  amber  orange-jelly 
the  skins  of  oranges,  emptied  and  scraped  through  a small  hole  cut 
in  the  blossom-end. 

Insert  the  finger  cautiously  to  rid  the  inside  of  the  skin  of 
strings  and  pulp,  wash  with  cold  water,  and  pour  in  the  jelly. 
Leave  it  to  form  over-night,  and  set  on  ice  until  the  dessert  is  sent 
in.  Cut  lengthwise  into  halves  with  a knife,  and  pile  on  a glass 
dish  with  orange,  or  lemon  leaves  as  a setting. 

Light  cakes  are  passed  with  ices. 

Fruits — ^bananas,  white  grapes,  oranges  and  late  pears — will 
probably  be  partaken  of  sparingly,  but  must  not  be  omitted.  Nor 
should  the  tiny  cup  of  black  coffee,  served  at  table,  or  sipped  later 
in  the  library  or  parlor. 

It  is  very  fashionable  to  take  coffee  “ clear,”  without  cream  or 
sugar,  but  offer  both  for  such  as  may  like  to  qualify  the  strength 
of  the  beverage.  It  should  be  very  strong  and  very  clear.  Well- 
bred  people,  and  sensible  ones,  do  not  affect  pale  or  watery  decoc- 
tions after  a hearty  dinner. 

Those  who  do  not  like  coffee,  or  who  fear  its  effect  upon  their 
nerves,  are  at  liberty  to  decline  it  now. 

All  ought  to  indulge,  on  this  day,  in  three  hours  of  pleasurable 
inaction — quiet  chat,  a few  pages  of  a sprightly  novel,  a dreamy, 
not  sleepy  loll  in  a favorite  chair — while  Nature  brings  forward  the 
forces  of  a healthy  body  to  make  right  use  of  the  provisions 
committed  to  her  care.  ^ 


5o6 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


It  is  not  the  hearty,  post-prandial  laugh  that  helpeth  digestion, 
but  the  gentle,  smiling  content  of  a heart  at  peace  with  itself  and 
full  of  good-will  to  men. 


Mince-Pie. 

A standard  Christmas-joke  is  the  story  of  the  blunder  of  a 
French  cook  who  took  service  on  an  outward-bound  East  Indiaman. 
The  festival  fell  while  the  ship  was  hundreds  of  miles  from  land, 
and,  meditating  a surprise  for  homesick  English  passengers,  he 
begged  a recipe  for  plum-pudding  from  a lady  on  board.  Three 
days  of  preparation  and  six  hours  of  execution  resulted  in  some 
gallons  of  brown  porridge,  streaked,  speckled  and  spotted,  compla- 
cently served  up  in  big  bowls.  His  confidante  and  ally  had  forgotten 
to  mention  the  pudding-bag — taking  it  for  granted,  as  do  many 
other  excellent  houswives,  that  “ everybody  knew  some  things.” 

As  pudding,  the  Gallic  chefh  exploit  was  a failure.  The  product 
of  his  art,  jeered  at  by  those  he  strove  to  please,  might  have 
asserted  near  kinship  with,  and  greater  antiquity  than  the  National 
Noel  dish.  Walter  Scott  is  an  acknowledged  authority  on  gastro- 
nomical  archaeology. 

“And  well  our  Christian  sires  of  old 
Loved,  when  the  year  its  course  had  rolled, 

And  brought  blithe  Christmas  back  again, 

With  all  his  hospitable  train. 

Then  was  brought  in  the  lusty  brawn, 

By  old  blue-coated  serving  man  ; 

Then  the  grim  boar’s  head  frowned  on  high. 

Crested  with  bays  and  rosemary. 

The  wassail  round  in  good  brown  bowls, 

Garnished  with  ribbons,  blithely  trowls. 

There  the  huge  sirloin  reeked  ; hard  by 
Plum  porridge  stood  and  Christmas  pie ; 

Nor  failed  old  Scotland  to  produce 
’ At  such  high  tide,  her  savory  goose.” 


THE  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 


507 


The  amorphous  “plum  porridge”  was,  as  time  grew  toward 
ripeness,  crystallized  into  the  ultimate  texture  of  a solid  by  incase- 
ment  within  a stout  integument  (with  “ felled”  seams).  At  a still- 
ip.ter  epoch,  culinary  genius  as  daring  as  our  Frenchman’s  and  more 
successful,  eliminated  the  flour  from  the  original  formation,  knead- 
ed it  into  a concrete,  built  with  it  foundation  walls  and  reticulated 
roof,  and  presented  to  admiring  ages,  then  and  to  come — MincE- 
PlE. 

Genealogically  considered,  it  is  one  remove  from  plum  porridge, 
two  removes  from  plum-pudding,  and  has  no  consanguineous  con- 
nection with  Scott’s  Christmas  Pie.  The  latter  was  undoubtedly  a 
“ pastry  ” of  venison  and  other  game.  It  still  holds  a place  of  honor 
in  the  British  cook  book.  It  contains  pheasants,  partridges  and 
woodcock,  sweet  herbs,  lemon-peel,  mushrooms,  fat  bacon,  egg- 
yolks,  butter,  gravy,  spices  and  bay  leaves,  and  is  surrounded  by  a 
raised  crust  of  surprising  thickness  and’  solidity.  The  Puritan 
good  woman  ventured  a timid  reminiscence  of  the  ancient  and  con- 
secrate structure  in  her  Thanksgiving  chicken-pie.  While  wiry 
fibres  all  along  the  tap-root  of  memory  hold  hard  to  anniversary- 
dishes  with  love  that  has  no  affinity  with  fieshy  appetite,  we  cannot 
divorce  Cookery  and  Sentiment 

Those  of  us  who  can  buy  French  rolls  and  good  brown  bread; 
who  care  for,  or  know  so  little  of  cake  as  to  tolerate  the  square 
inches  of  frosted  indigestion  supplied  at  famine-prices  by  mercenary 
confectioners  ; who  are  not  fastidious  as  to  rancid-butter-pastry  and 
ambiguous  filling — may  shirk  baking  for  fifty-one  weeks  in  the 
year.  If  Christmas  Mince-Pie  is  to  deserve  its  name  and  honorable 
estate,  it  must  be  made  at  home.  Nay,  more,  the  dogma  that  no  part 
of  the  process  can  be  slighted  without  endangering  the  fair  con- 
struction as  an  entirety,  must  be  etched,  and  the  lines  well  bitten 
in  upon  the  domestic  conscience. 


5o8 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


At  least  ten  days  before  the  World’s  Festival,  clear  decent  space 
and  wide,  for  the  ceremony  of  mince-meat  making.  A sort  of 
jocund  dignity  should  attend  preliminaries  and  manufacture.  The 
kitchen  must  be  clean  and  set  in  order  ; irrelevances  and  distractions 
of  laundry-work  and  every-meal  cookery  must  be  shoved  out  of 
sight.  The  middle  distance  should  be  occupied  by  reserves  of 
material.  In  the  foreground,  let  mistress  and  assistants  seat  them- 
selves at  a spacious  table,  and,  serenely  resolute,  engage  first  of  all 
the  currants. 

“ Never  trust  hirelings  to  do  the  currants  ! ” said  a stately 
housekeeper  to  me,  confidentially,  thirty  years  ago..  “Four  wash- 
ings are  my  rule.” 

In  that  day,  the  Lady  enunciated  her  rules  with  calm  pride  that 
neared  the  sublime.  My  chatelaine  checked  her’s  off  with  a 
shapely  thumb  on  taper  fingers. 

“ First — A rinsing  with  cold  water  in  a colander  to  loosen  the 
lumpy  masses.  Second — I rub  them  between  my  palms  as  I would 
soiled  laces,  in  a pan  of  tepid  water.  (You  would  not  believe,  my 
dear,  what  this  process  brings  to  light.)  Third — I drain  them  in  a 
colander,  put  them  back  into  the  pan,  cover  them  with  cold  water 
and  give  them  another  rub.  Lastly — I shake  them  briskly  in  the 
colander  while  I pour  water  on  them — plenty  of  it.  After  that,  I 
spread  them  on  a clean  cloth  to  dry,  and  pick  them  over.  I assure 
you  I have  found  mummied — bugs — in  currants,  and  once  took  out 
a teaspoonful  of  gravel  from  three  pounds  of  fruit ! ” 

Sultana  raisins  may  pass  with  two  washings.  They  need  no 
seeding,  but  are  prodigal  of  stems,  and  on  this  account  cannot  be 
slurred  over. 

Citron  is  made  flabby  by  washing.  Content  yourself  with  scraping 
it,  then  slice  it  into  thin  shavings  with  a keen  knife,  and  clip  the 
shreds  into  dice. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  DINNER. 


509 


Free  the  large  raisins  from  stems,  cut  each  in  half,  and  take  out 
the  seed.  The  business  is  tedious  and  sticky.  To  enliven  the  task, 
two  or  three  may  work  together,  chatting  merrily,  or  as  was  the  way 
of  one  ingenious  family,  one  of  the  group  may  read  aloud  wdiile  the 
the  others  are  busy.  Dickens’  Christmas  Chimes  and  The  Cricket 
on  the  Hearth^  have  always  for  the  ears  of  my  fancy  the  low  ac- 
companiment of  the  “ snip-snap  ” of  raisin-scissors,  the  shrill 
sigh  of  the  December  wind  between  the  window  sashes,  the  sough 
of  the  draught  under  the  heated  plates  of  the  range,  the  bubble  and 
savoriness  of  the  beef  boiling  at  the  back  of  the  fire.  This  beef 
should  be  a solid  chunk  of  the  round.  Cook  it  as  you  prepare 
raisins,  currants  and  citron,  the  day  before  the  ingredients  are  to  be 
compounded  into  a whole  of  incomparable  deliciousness. 

On  the  eventful  morrow,  chop  the  meat,  clear  suet  of  strings 
and  membranes,  crumb  it  daintily  with  cool,  deft  fingers  ; select 
firm,  juicy  apples — pippins  or  greenings — pare,  slice  and  mince 
them  when  everything  else  is  ready.  Bare  your  arms,  and  mix  the 
accumulated  riches — from  North,  East,  South  and  West — in  a 
mighty  bowl  or  pan.  First,  meat,  suet  and  apples,  then,  the  pre- 
pared small  fruits  and  citron,  sugar  and  spices,  tossing  and  turning, 
but  not  bruising  or  crushing.  Finally,  add  wine  and  brandy  to  mel- 
low and  preserve  the  incorporate  mass. 

I am  moved  to  insert  a digressive  paragraph  here. 

■ In  my  own  household  the  place  of  ardent  spirits  is  in  the  medi- 
cine-chest and  among  fiavoring  extracts  in  the  kitchen-closet. 
They  are  never  used  as  beverages  on  the  table  or  elsewhere.  But 
our  eyes  are  not  yet  opened  to  see  death  in  wine-jelly,  or  certain 
destruction  in  brandy-sauce  for  occasional  puddings.  I do  not  hesi- 
tate to  say  that  mock-turtle  soup  is  not  at  its  princely  best  unless  a 
glass  of  wine  is  added  to  the  contents  of  the  tureen,  and  to  aver  yet 
more  flatly  that  I never  tasted  genuine  mince-meat  that  was  not 


V 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


1 


510 


brightened  by  an  infusion  of  excellent  brandy.  Not  content  with 
others’  experiments,  I have  made  up  huge  batches  of  it  upon  so- 
called  temperance  principles.  Like  all  imitations,  they  were  bur- 
lesques and  caricatures,  and  each  slice  had  more  dyspepsia  in  it 
than  could  be  evolved  from  a whole  real  Christmas  pie. 

Instead  of  imprisoning  the  harmful  volatiles  in  a close  crust, 
make  your  pie  more  wholesome  and  prettier  by  laying  strips  of 
pastr}^  notched  with  a jagging  iron,  on  the  full,  brown  breast  of  the 
Mince-Meat.  Then  let  none  of  the  household  partake  during  the 
holidays  and  year  of  aught  more  intoxicating  than  that  which  is 
bound  up  in  an  obtuse  angle  of  our  American  Christmas  Pie,  and 
3^011  will  thank,  not  curse,  the  humble  biographer  of  this  daughter 
of  high  degree  and  ancient  ancestry. 


Pickles. 

East  India  ; or,  Mixkd  Pickles. 

Have  ready  a large  stone  jar,  or  perfectly  clean  wooden  firkin, 
and  drop  into  it,  from  day  to  day,  strewing  salt  thickly  between  each 
layer,  tiny  cucumbers — not  longer  than  your  little  finger,  and  even 
smaller — radish  pods,  minute  clusters  of  cauliflower,  small  string 
beans,  bab}^  onions,  nasturtium  seed — in  fact,  almost  any  small 
green  vegetable.  Add  cold  water  to  the  second  layer  of  salt  to  keep 
the  pickles  under  brine.  Lay  an  inverted  plate,  with  a stone  upon 
it,  on  the  top  of  them  to  prevent  them  from  floating. 

At  the  end  of  two  or  three  weeks,  you  will  probably  have  enough 
collected.  Pour  off  the  brine,  pick  out  the  firm  pickles,  rejecting 
the  soft,  wash  well  and  cover  in  the  cold,  clear  water.  Change  this 
in  twenty-four  hours,  fill  up  with  fresh,  and  leave  until  next  day. 

Line  a porcelain,  or  carefully  scrubbed  brass  kettle ; or,  better 
than  either,  one  of  agate-iron  ware,  with  green  grape  leaves ; put  in 
a layer  of  the  mixed  pickles,  strew  powdered  alum  over  it ; another 
layer  of  green  things,  more  alum,  and  so  on  until  all  are  in.  An 
ounce  of  aliinl  to  a gallon  of  pickles  should  suffice.  Cover  carefully 
with  very  cold  water,  and  this  with  three  thicknesses  of  grape  leaves, 


511 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


512 

fit  a close  lid  on  the  pot,  and  cook  7)e}y  slowly  for  four  lioiirs  after 
the  water  becomes  scalding  hot,  which  should  not  be  within  an 
hour. 

Lift  from  the  fire,  take  out  the  pickles  and  drop  into  ice-cold 
water,  changing  this  in  half  an  hour  for  more  cold. 

In  your  kettle,  meanwhile,  put  for  each  gallon  of  vinegar,  one 
even  cup  of  brown  sugar,  half  an  ounce  of  whole  white  (or  black) 
peppers,  the  same  quantity  of  cloves,  one  dozen  allspice  and  one 
dozen  blades  of  mace  with  some  small  bits  of  red  peppers — only  a 
few, — also  a tablespoonful  of  celery-seeds.  Boil  five  minutes,  drop 
the  pickles  into  a jar — a few  at  a time,  not  to  break  them — and 
cover  with  the  boiling  spiced  vinegar.  Cover,  and  set  away  for  two 
days.  Drain  off  the  vinegar  then — every  drop — into  the  kettle,  heat 
to  scalding,  and  again  cover  the  pickles  with  it.  Do  this  a third 
time,  after  three  days,  and  again  after  the  lapse  of  a week.  Put 
away  in  glass  jars,  sealing  hot  after  the  last  “ scald,”  and  keep  in  a 
dark,  cool,  dry  place.  Inspect  them  every  month  until  their  integ- 
rity is  a fixed  fact.  I have  been  thus  explicit  in  the  directions  for 
preparing  these,  because  the  same  general  rules  of  salting,  soaking, 
greening  and  scalding  are  applicable  to  all  green  pickles. 


Tiny  Tims. 

Select  small  cucumbers  of  uniform  size,  each  as  nearly  two 
inches  long  as  you  can  get,  prepare  as  directed  above,  and  when  the 
last  scalding  is  over,  take  up  each  with  a pair  of  blunt  nippers  and 
pack  them  in  regular  layers,  perpendL.^^arly,  in  glass  jars.  Strain 
the  spices  out  of  the  vinegar  and  pour  in  until  the  jar  is  full.  Cover 
closely  and  set  away.  A little  care  in  selection  and  packing  will 
give  jjretty  jarfuls,  better  in  flavor  and  as  pleasing  to  the  eye  as  the 
pickles  sold  under  the  name  of  “ Tiny  Tims.” 


PICKLES.  513 

Chow-Chow  (No.  i). 

To  the  East  ludia  pickles,  a recipe  for  which  has  been  given,  add 
three  teaspoonfuls  of  curry-powder  on  the  second  “ scald,”  and  mix 
in  well.  This  will  color  the  pickles  yellow,  and  impart  a flavor 
much  relished  by  the  lovers  of  piquante  condiments. 


Chow-Chow  (No.  2). 

Mince  the  hearts  of  two  fine  cabbages  somewhat  coarsely.  Chop 
six  white  onions  fine.  Slice  four  cucumbers.  Pack  these  in  a crock, 
sprinkling  each  layer  with  salt  (lightly)  and  leave  them  in  the 
cellar  until  next  day.  Prepare  the  seasoning  in  these  proportions  : — 
One  pint  of  vinegar ; one  even  cup  of  white  sugar ; one  tea- 
spoonful of  white  pepper  (ground)  and  one  of  celery-seed  ; one  half- 
teaspoonfnl,  each,  of  mace  and  cloves ; one  tablespoonful  curry- 
powder.  Scald,  and  add  cabbage,  onions  and  cucumbers.  Cook 
gently  half  an  hour,  and  seal  in  glass  jars.  It  will  be  ready  for  use 
in  a week,  and  very  nice. 


Cucumber  Soy. 

Fifty  cucumbers,  sliced ; two  ounces  celery-seed ; one  ounce 
ground  white  (or  black)  pepper ; six  onions ; one  ounce  mixed  mace 
and  cloves  (ground). 

Three  pods  red  pepper  chopped  ; four  cups  brown  sugar  ; three 
quarts  of  vinegar ; two  tablespoonfuls  of  curry-powder ; two  table- 
spoonfuls  mustard  seed. 

The  cucumbers  should  be  peeled  and  sliced,  and  laid,  with  alter- 
nate layers  of  sliced  onions,  in  strong  salt  and  water  for  five  or  six 


514 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


hours.  Drain  off  the  brine,  put  into  a colander,  a ciipfiil  at  a time, 
and  dash  very  cold  water  through  them  before  draining  again,  and 
stirring  into  the  scalding  vinegar  and  spices.  Cook  and  stir  for 
half  an  hour  after  they  reach  the  boil.  Put  up  in  small  glass  jars. 
It  will  be  fit  for  use  in  two  days. 


Grkkx  To:mato  Soy. 

One  gallon  green  tomatoes.  They  can  be  bought  cheap  if  you 
wait  until  the  first  frost  stops  the  ripening  of  the  fruit.  Slice  with- 
out peeling. 

One  quart  of  vinegar ; one  pint  of  onions  ; one  cup  of  brown 
sugar  ; one  tablespoonful  of  salt ; one  teaspoonful  of  allspice ; two 
teaspoonful  of  cloves ; one  tablespoonful  of  celery-seed  and  one  of 
ground  pepper. 

Slice  tomatoes  and  onions,  and  pack  in  alternate  layers  in  your 
kettle,  strewing  upon  each  the  sugar  and  spices.  Let  them  stand 
together  for  an  hour  before  adding  the  vinegar.  Cook  gently  for 
half  an  hour  after  they  really  boil.  Pack  while  hot  in  small  glass 
jars.  A useful  and  good  sauce  and  pickle. 


Ripe  Tomato  Soy. 

Three  quarts  of  firm  ripe  tomatoes,  peeled  and  sliced ; two 
onions,  minced  fine  ; six  tablespoonfuls  of  brown  sugar  ; one  table- 
spoonful of  cinnamon,  and  same  of  cloves;  one  teaspoonful  of 
ground  pepper;  one  pint  of  best  cider  vinegar;  one  teaspoonful  of 
salt.  Mix  up  well  and  cook  steadily  for  one  hour. 


PICKLES. 


515 


Cherry  Pickle. 

Two  pounds  of  cherries — Morellas,  short  stems,  or  amber ; one 
full  cup  of  sugar ; three  cups  of  best  cider  vinegar  ; one  ounce  of 
cinnamon  in  broken  sticks. 

Heat  the  vinegar,  sugar  and  cinnamon  together.  Put  the 
cherries,  with  stems  on,  in  ajar,  and  pour  the  vinegar,  boiling  hot, 
upon  them.  Do  this  every  morning  for  a week,  when  they  will  be 
fit  for  use. 


Pickled  Peaches. 

Choose  firm  ripe  peaches,  Morris  Whites,  or  Heaths,  if  you  can 
get  them.  Rub  free  of  down,  and  prick  each  twice  with  a coarse 
needle.  Wash  well^  and  put  over  the  fire  in'  cold  water  enough  to 
cover  them.  Set  at  one  side  of  the  range,  and  bring  them  slowly 
to  scalding  point.  If  they  boil,  they  will  break. 

Then,  allow  for  ten  pounds  of  fruit: — Four  pounds  of  sugar; 
two  quarts  of  vinegar ; three  tablespoonfuls  of  whole  cloves,  mace 
and  pepper  corns  mixed  ; one  teaspoonful  of  celery-seed. 

Heat  all  together,  and  drop  in  gently  the  hot  peaches.  Cook 
slowly  fifteen  minutes,  but  not  until  they  break.  Take  the 
peaches  out,  and  spread  to  cool  quickly,  in  large  platters.  Boil  the 
syrup  left  in  the  kettle  for  half  an  hour,  fast ; put  the  peaches  into 
iars,  strain  the  spices  out  of  the  syrup,  and  fill  up  the  jars  with  .the 
latter  while  hot. 


Pickled  Pear.s. 

Eight  pounds  of  pears,  carefully  peeled ; four  pounds  of  white 
sugar ; three  cups  of  vinegar ; one  tablespoonful  each,  of  whole 
mace  and  stick  cinnamon. 


nOUSK  AND  HOME. 


516 

Put  a layer  of  pears  into  a poreelaiii  or  agate-iron  kettle  ; sprinkle 
thickly  with  sugar;  another  layer,  more  sugar,  and  so  on  until  all 
the  materials  are  in  except  the  spices.  Let  them  stand  for  an  hour, 
put  over  the  fire,  and  bring  slowly  to  a boil.  When  this  is  reached, 
' add  vinegar  and  spices ; cook  slowly  ten  minntes  after  the  boil  re- 
commences. Take  out  the  pears  with  a skimmer,  and  spread  to 
cool  while  yon  boil  down  the  s^^rup.  Strain  out  the  spices,  at  the 
end  of  an  hour’s  cooking  ; fill  jars  with  the  fruit,  and  cover  with  tlie 
boiling  liquid.  Seal  while  hot. 


PlCKALLILLI. 

Two  large  firm  cabbages ; shred  fine  with  a sharp  knife,  and 
criss-cross  into  bits  ; one  pint  of  onions,  also  minced ; one  head  of 
cauliflower  cut  up  in  the  same  way.  (Do  not  use  a chopper ; the 
thick  blade  will  bruise  and  crush).  Half-gallon  of  vinegar;  three 
tablespoonfuls  of  celery-seed  ; one  tablespoonful  of  ground  mustard; 
one  tablespoonful  pepper  ; one  tablespoonful  mace  ; one  tablespoon- 
ful ground  cloves  ; two  cupfuls  brown  sugar ; two  tablespoonfuls 
curry-powder. 

Pack  cabbage,  cauliflower  and  onions  in  salt  (about  two  table- 
spoonfuls), and  let  them  stand  in  a cold  place  for  twelve  hours. 
Drain  off  the  liquor.  Heat  vinegar  and  spices  to  a boil,  put  in  the 
salted  mixture,  and  cook  slowly,  after  it  begins  to  simmer,  fifteen 
minutes.  While  hot,  turn  into  small  jars  and  close  tightly. 

It  will  be  fit  for  use  in  two  days. 


Fruit  Jellies. 

Currant  Jelly. 

Stem  and  pick  over  the  fruit ; pack  it  hard  in  a vStont  stone  j at 
and  set  in  a kettle  of  lukewarm  water.  Bring  slowly  to  the  boil, 
and  keep  it  over  the  fire  until  the  currants  are  all  broken  to  pieces. 
If  yon  have  no  fruit  press,  turn  the  currants  into  a stout  coarse 
cloth,  fastened  at  each  corner  to  the  legs  of  an  inverted  chair,  and 
let  the  juice  drip  into  a bowl  set  beneath.  When  all  has  come  away 
that  will,  without  squeezing — and  not  until  then — work  down  the 
contents  into  the  bag  with  a wooden  spoon.  Lastly,  untie  the 
corners  of  the  cloth  and  squeeze  hard  to  extract  every  drop  of 
liquid. 

Measure,  and  pour  into  a preserving-kettle.  Heat  quickly  to  a 
rapid  boil.  Allow  a pound  of  the  best  white  sugar  to  each  pint  of 
liquid,  and  when  the  latter  nears  the  boil,  put  the  sugar  into  broad 
pans  and  set  in  the  oven.  Stir  frequently  to  keep  it  from  burning. 
Let  the  juice  boil  fast  for  twenty  minutes,  skimming  off  the  scum. 
If  it  cooks  too  long  it  will  darken.  Now  “ dump  ” in  the  heated 
sugar,  stir  fast  until  it  is  dissolved  and  the  syrup  begins  to  simmer 
at  the  edges  ; take  instantly  from  the  fire  and  fill  the  glasses,  which 
should  first  be  rolled  in  hot  water  to  prevent  cracking. 

When  cold,  press  upon  the  surface  of  the  jelly,  tissue-paper,  cut 
to  fit  the  inside  of  the  glasses,  and  wet  with  brandy.  Fit  on  metal 
covers,  or  paste  stout  paper  over  the  glasses. 


517 


* 


HOUSK  AND  HOME. 


Chp:rry  Jelly. 

Stone  the  cherries,  but  crack  about  a handful  and  add  the  “pits’' 
to  the  fruit  when  it  goes  into  the  stone  jar  to  be  heated. 

Proceed  exactly  as  with  currants,  and,  should  the  jelly  not  form 
readily,  leave  the  glasses,  uncovered,  upon  the  tin  roof  or  other  flat 
surface,  exposed  to  the  hottest  sun  several  days,  taking  them  in  at 
night  and  filling  one  tumbler  from  another,  as  the  contents  shrink, 
until  the  requisite  firmness  is  secured. 


Blackberry  and  Raspberry  Jelly, 

Are  made  in  the  same  way  as  currant,  but  are  greatly  improved 
and  form  more  readily  if,  to  every  pint  of  blackberry  juice,  a table- 
spoonful  of  strained  lemon  juice  be  added.  Raspberry  jelly  is  made 
delicious  by  mixing  one  cup  of  currants  with  every  quart  of  berries 
and  cooking  them  together. 

If  currants  are  not  procurable,  add  lemon  juice,  as  with  black- 
berries. 


Strawberry  Jelly. 

Nothing  is  more  delicious  for  making  layer-cake  than  this.  But 
unless  the  fruit  be  very  acid,  here,  again,  take  the  precaution  to  put 
m a dash  of  lemon  juice  to  ensure  the  needed  jellification. 


Peach  and  Pineapple  Jelly. 

Pare  the  peaches  and  treat  as  already  directed,  but  with  thft 
addition  of  a dozen  “ pits  ” to  every  pound  of  the  fruit.  They 
impart  a piquancy  which  takes  off  the  “cloy”  of  the  cooked  peaches. 


JELLIES. 


519 

To  every  pound  of  peaches  allow  two  large  slices  of  pineapple, 
minced  fine.  The  more  active  acid  of  the  pine  improves  this  jelly 
immeasurably. 

This,  also,  makes  delightful  layer-cake. 


Apple  Jelly. 

It  should  be  better  understood  that,  while  the  Siberian  crab 
makes  the  best  apple  jelly  known  to  the  cook,  yet  the  common  wild, 
or  seedling,  or  neglected  orchard  fruit,  can  be  made  into  a delicious 
conserve.  Apples  which  we  consider  hardly  worth  picking  up,  so 
tart  and  crude  are  they,  may  be  used  for  this  purpose. 

Cut  up  the  apples  without  peeling,  and  do  not  remove  the  cores. 
The  seeds  improve  the  taste.  Slice  small,  that  they  may  heat  the 
more  quickly,  and  pack  in  the  jar,  as  with  other  fruit.  Long  stand- 
ing injures  the  color.  It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  add  a little 
water  to  Siberian  crabs  to  make  the  juice  flow  readily  ; this  is  seldom 
required  with  other  apples.  Stir  up  the  contents  of  the  jar  often 
while  heating.  Squeeze  out  the  liquid,  and  proceed  as  directed  in 
the  first  receipt  given  for  jellies. 


Quince  Jelly. 

Cut  up  without  paring.  Most  of  the  jellying  principle  is  in  the 
skins  and  seeds.  Put  over  the  fire,  with  just  enough  water  in  the 
bottom  of  the  kettle  to  prevent  burning,  and  heat  slowly  at  the  side 
of  the  range  until  soft.  Afterward,  boil  faster,  stirring  up  often, 
and  breaking  the  fruit  to  pieces  with  a wooden  or  silver  spoon. 
Strain  the  pulp,  pressing  hard,  boil  twenty  minutes,  add  heated 
sugar,  boil  one  minute  and  fill  your  hot,  wet  glasses. 

Quince  jelly  is  healing  to  sore  throats  and  good  for  coughs. 


Preserves,  Jams  and  Marmalades. 

Preserved  Strawberrie:s. 

The  most  delicious  and  beautiful  strawberry  preserve  I ever  saw 
was  made  in  the  following  manner : — 

The  finest  and  firmest  berries  were  selected  and  picked  upon  a 
clear  day.  They  were  weighed,  with  as  little  handling  as  possible, 
and  laid  upon  broad,  flat  stone  china  dishes.  To  each  pound  of  fruit 
was  allowed  the  same  weight  of  best  white  sugar,  which  was  strewed 
over  and  among  the  berries.  About  a pound  of  each  went  into  the 
largest  platter.  The  dishes  were  set  upon  the  tin  roof  of  a southern 
piazza,  where  the  fierce  sun  poured  for  many  hours  of  each  day.  Over 
each  was  laid  a large  pane  of  glass,  to  keep  off  dust  and  insects.  At 
night  the  dishes  were  taken  into  the  house.  In  ten  days  there 
remained  in  them  the  thick,  “ lucent  syrup,”  with  great  ruby  globes 
of  sweetness  set  in  it — and  warranted  to  keep. 

Of  course,  a few  rainy  days  would  have  ruined  everything,  but 
the  accomplished  housewife  whose  table  bore  this  incomparable 
sweetmeat,  assured  me  that  she  had  never  lost  fruit  and  sugar 
through  such  mischance. 

Pineapple  PrEvSErvp:s. 

Can  be  also  cooked  by  the  sun  in  July  or  August.  Allow 
pound  for  pound ; pare  the  fruit ; cut  into  dice,  and  heat  as  you 


PRESERVES. 


521 

would  the  berries.  When  the  sun  serves,  the  product  is  eminently 
satisfactory. 

In  cold  weather,  nice  preserves  may  be  made  by  preparing  the 
fruit  as  above ; putting  it  and  the  sugar  together,  and  letting  them 
stand  for  four  hours.  Meantime,  boil  a root  or  two  of  green  ginger 
in  a pint  of  water,  first  slicing  it.  Cool  and  strain  ; pour  over  the 
sugared  pineapple  and  cook  steadily  to  a gentle  boil.  Take  up  the 
pineapple  with  a perforated  skimmer ; spread  upon  platters  to  cool 
while  you  boil  down  the  syrup  until  thick  and  clear.  Put  in  the 
pineapple  again  ; cook  twenty  minutes,  gently  ; fill  glass  jars  with 
it,  fill  up  with  syrup  and  seal  while  hot. 


Preserved  Cherries. 

Stone  them,  weigh,  and  allow  pound  for  pound  of  sugar.  Add 
a dozen  “ pits  ” chopped  fine,  to  each  pound.  Let  fruit  and  sugar 
stand  together  for  an  hour  in  a cool  place.  Put  over  the  fire  and 
cook  gently  fifteen  minutes  after  the  boil  begins.  As  with  other 
fruit,  remove  from  the  syrup  with  a perforated  skimmer,  and  leave 
upon  dishes  to  cool  while  you  boil  down  the  syrup  thick.  Return 
the  cherries  to  this,  boil  five  minutes,  and  seal  while  hot. 


Imitation  East  India  Preserves. 

Six  pounds  of  fine  well-flavored  pippins  ; one  pineapple ; two 
ounces  of  green  ginger-root ; seven  and  one-half  pounds  of  white 
sugar;  juice  and  pulp  of  one  large  orange. 

Pare,  core  and  quarter  the  apples.  Pare,  and  cut  up  the  pine- 
apple into  dice.  Scrape  and  mince  the  ginger  and  put  over  the  fire 


522 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


in  cold  water ; bring  to  a boil ; change  for  cold  and  bring  again  to  a 
boil.  This  should  be  done  before  you  prepare  the  other  fruit. 

Put  into  a large  fariiia-kettle,  or,  if  you  have  none  large  enough^ 
into  ail  ordinary  pail,  and  set  in  a kettle  of  tepid  water,  the  orange^ 
juice  and  pulp,  reiiioviiig  seeds  and  fibres,  the  ginger,  sugar,  the 
pineapple  and  the  water  in  which  the  ginger  was  boiled  the  second 
time  ; there  should  be  about  a pint.  Cook  fast  until  the  pineapple 
is  clear ; let  it  get  almost  cold  ; turn  into  a preserve-kettle  and  drop 
in  the  quartered  apples— yW/  peeled  and  cut.  Set  at  one  side  of  the 
range  where  they  will  not  boil  for  twenty  minutes  ; increase  the  heat) 
but  stew  slowly  until  the  apples  are  clear  in  their  turn.  Remove 
with  care  to  platters,  boil  down  the  syrup  fast ; pack  the  cooled 
amber  apples  into  wide-mouthed  jars,  strain  over  them  the  hot  syrup 
and  seal.  The  straining  removes  pineapple  and  ginger,  but  leaves 
their  essence.  A delicious  conserve  if  properly  made. 


Red  Raspberry  Jam. 

Allow  for  each  pound  of  fruit,  three-quarters  of  a pound  of  sugar. 
Put  the  berries  over  the  fire  and  cook  until  they  break.  Turn  into 
a colander,  and  let  all  the  juice  run  off  that  will  come  away  without 
pressing.  Return  to  the  fire,  add  the  sugar,  and  cook  for  half  an 
hour,  stirring  well.  Put  up  in  small  jars  or  tumblers. 


Blackcap  Jam. 

Is  made  in  the  same  way,  as  is  also  blackberry  jam.  The  addi- 
tion of  currant  or  lemon  juice  to  these  improves  the  flavor. 


MARMALADES. 

Quince  Marmalade. 


523 


Fifty  quinces  ; three  oranges,  juice  and  pulp — none  of  the  fibre ; 
juice  of  one  lemon  ; the  weight  of  the  fruit  in  sugar. 

Peel  and  core  the  quinces,  dropping  each  piece  when  thus  pre- 
pared, into  cold  water  to  preserve  the  color.  Put  parings  and  cores 
into  a kettle  with  cold  water  enough  to  cover  them,  and  cook  until 
they  break ; strain  and  press  out  all  the  water  through  a piece  of 
cheese-cloth,  and  let  it  cool.  Then  put  over  the  fire  with  the  quinces, 
the  oranges  and  lemon  juice,  and  cook  rapidly,  stirring  to  a pulp. 
Add  sugar  to  this*,  and  continue  to  stir  and  stir  for  half  an  hour. 

Put  up  in  glass  tumblers  with  brandied  papers  pressed  closely 
upon  them.  The  marmalade  should  be  of  a fine  red  color,  and  firm 
enough  to  cut.  It  is  very  fine. 


Orange  Marmalade. 

Grate  away  three-quarters  of  the  yellow  and  thin  outer  rind  of 
Messina  oranges  ; the  Floridas  have  usually  too  much  skin.  Now, 
remove  the  whole  rind  in  quarters  or  eighths  ; put  over  the  fire  in 
enough  cold  water  to  cover  them  ; cook  fifteen  minutes  after  the  boP 
begins  ; throw  off  the  water  and  replace  with  fresh  and  cold.  As 
soon  as  they  begin  to  boil  again,  drain  off  this,  and  cover  a third 
time  with  cold  water.  Cook  again  for  fifteen  minutes  from  time  of 
boiling.  Throw  the  water  away,  lay  the  rinds  in  ice-cold  water  for 
ten  minutes,  then  spread  out  to  cool  quickly.  Prepare  the  orange 
pulp  by  removing  every  bit  of  the  inner  membrane,  the  seeds  and 
fibres.  Cut  into  bits  over  the  sugar  (pound  for  pound  of  the  fruit) 
not  to  lose  a, drop,  and  set  over  the  fire.  Stir  until  the  sugar  dis- 
solves, and  bring  to  a speedy  boil.  Let  an  assistant  clip  the  boiled 
and  cooled  peel  into  bits  with  a pair  of  scissors,  and  lend  a hand  as 


524 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


you  have  time.  This  is  the  most  tedious  part  of  the  operation,  but 
a chopper  would  not  do  as  well.  When  all  are  cut  up  add  to  the 
orange  syrup  ou  the  fire  ; boil  for  half  an  hour,  and  fill  small  jars 
or  tumblers  with  the  marmalade.  It  should  be  clear  amber  iu  color, 
and  much  less  bitter  than  most  of  the  imported  marmalades. 


Peach  Marmalade. 

Pare  the  peaches  and  take  out  the  stones.  Fruit  which  is  not 
dead-ripe  or  very  choice  can  be  used  to  advantage  in  this  way.  For 
every  pound  of  the  prepared  peaches  allow  one  dozen  “pits,”  cracked 
and  chopped,  and  a pound  of  sugar.  Put  the  fruit  and  “ pits  ” in  a 
kettle  and  heat  very  slowly,  breaking  it,  as  it  softens,  with  a wooden 
ladle.  Increase  the  heat  when  they  are  hot  all  through  and  boil  to 
pieces,  quickly,  taking  care  to  stir  up  from  the  bottom  frequently. 
Drain  out  all  the  syrup  that  will  come  away  without  pressing, 
before  putting  in  the  sugar.  Cook  to  a bright-colored  paste,  free 
from  hard  pieces  or  lumps,  take  from  the  fire,  stir  in  a glass  of 
brandy  for  ever}^  four  pounds  of  fruit,  and  put  up  in  tumblers.  The 
brandy  serves  to  keep  it,  and  prevents  moulding. 


A Few  Dishes  for  the  Invalid. 

Beef-Tea,  or  Bouillon. 

Mince  a pound  of  fresh  lean  beef,  freed  of  strings,  and  put  into 
a quart  of  cold  water.  Let  it  stand  one  hour ; break  the  clotted 
meat  to  pieces  and  put  with  the  water,  near  the  fire.  That  is,  where 
it  will  reach  the  boil  in  an  hour.  Cook  slowly  then  for  two  hours 
longer,  take  from  the  fire,  salt  (and  pepper,  if  desired)  and  let  it  get 
cold  with  the  meat  in.  Remove  all  the  fat,  strain  through  cheese- 
cloth, without  pressing ; put  back  over  the  fire,  and  when  luke- 
warm, drop  in  the  shell  and  white  of  an  egg.  Boil  ten  minutes,  and 
strain  through  double  cheese-cloth,  without  squeezing. 

Some  think  the  “tea”  more  nutritious  if  cleared  by  the  addition 
of  a tablespoonful  of  chopped  raw  beef — perfectly  lean — instead  of 
the  egg. 

Give  ice-cold,  or  very  hot. 


Jellied  Toast. 

Cut  with  a cake-cutter  rounds  out  of  thick  slices  of  stale 
baker’s  bread.  Toast  lightly  and  quickly.  Butter  well^  sprinkle 
lavishly  with  salt,  lay  in  a stout  china  or  silver  bowl,  and  cover 
deep  in  scalding  milk  a little  salted,  cover  and  set  in  the  oven  until 

the  milk  is  all  soaked  up.  Have  in  another  vessel  as  many  table- 

535 


526 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


spoonfuls  of  cream  as  you  have  rounds  of  toast,  scalding  hot.  Lift 
the  edges  of  each  piece  of  toast  and  pour  in  the  cream  by  the  spoon- 
ful. Taste  to  see  if  it  is  salt  enough ; cover  closely  and  leave  in 
the  oven  ten  minutes  longer.  Serve  in  the  bowl. 

It  is  savor}^  and  nourishing,  if  made  exactly  according  to  direc- 
tions. 


CUvSTARD  Toast. 

Prepare  as  above,  but  pour  over  the  toasted  and  buttered  rounds 
a sugarless  custard — allowing  a beaten  egg  to  a cup  of  hot  milk, 
and  when  it  has  soaked  up  this,  add  the  cream,  as  with  the  jellied 
toast. 


Arrowroot  Jetly. 

Two  heaping  teaspoonfuls  best  Bermuda  arrowroot ; two  cups  of 
boiling  water ; a pinch  of  salt ; half-teaspoonful  granulated  sugar ; 
juice  of  half  a lemon. 

Wet  the  arrowroot  with  cold  water;  stir  the  sugar  and  salt  into 
the  boiling  water,  set  over  the  fire,  and  when  it  bubbles  hard,  stir 
in  the  arrowroot.  Stir  (still)  over  the  fire  until  clear.  If  the  arrow- 
root  is  good,  this  should  be  in  three  or  four  minutes.  Add  the 
lemon  juice  (if  permissible)  and  pour  into  wet  glasses. 

Eat  cold  with  sugar  and  cream. 


Arrowroot  Blanc-mange. 

Is  made  by  substituting  hot  milk  for  water  in  the  above  recipe 
and  omitting  the  lemon  juice. 


Index 


PAGB. 

PAGB. 

Ambrosia  . 

• 

. 287 

Beets,  Young  . , 

• 

294,  314 

Apples  and  Bacon 

• 

280 

Biscuit,  Egg 

• 

253.  353 

Apples,  Fried 

• 

. 408 

Biscuit,  Buttermilk 

• 

338 

Apple  Meringue 

• 

357 

Biscuit,  Deviled  . 

• 

277 

Apple  Pyramid 

• 

391 

Biscuit,  Graham 

• 

489 

Apples,  Steamed 

% 

457 

Biscuit,  Quick 

• 

• 

494 

Apples,  Sweet,  Baked 

• 

. 477.496 

Bisque,  Chicken 

• 

307 

Bacon,  Breakfast 

• 

373 

Bisque,  Fish 

• 

• 

283 

Bananas 

319 

Bisque,  Fish  maigre  . 

% 

366 

Bananas,  Fried 

• 

269,  306 

Bisque,  Salmon 

• 

• 

350 

Bannocks  . 

. 358 

Bisque,  Tomato 

• 

297 

Bass,  Boiled 

• 

273 

Blanc  Mange 

• 

• 

' 317 

Beans,  Baked 

. 479 

Brains,  Calf’s  , 

• 

462 

Beans,  au  Maitre  d' Hotel 

356 

Bread  and  Butter  (thin) 

328,  451 

Beans,  Kidney 

. 320 

Bread  Batter,  Southern 

• 

467 

Beans,  Lima 

• 

308 

Bread,  Brown 

479 

Beans,  String 

. 325,  362 

Bread,  Brown,  Steamed 

249 

Beef  Balls  . . 

364 

Bread,  Corn 

• 

281,  410 

Beef,  Braised, 

. 408 

Bread,  Corn,  Boiled  , 

• 

462 

Beef,  Brisket  of,  a la  mode  . 

307 

Bread,  Risen  , 

• 

438 

Beef,  Corned,  Boiled 

392 

Bread,  Corn,  Terhune 

♦ 

334 

Beef,  Corned,  Hash  . 

472 

Bread,  Fried 

• 

429 

Beef,  Deviled,  in  batter 

• 

. 260 

Brewis 

• 

259.  437 

Beef  Hash,  au  gratin  . 

394 

Cabbage,  Stewed  . 

403 

Beef  Heart,  cold  . 

. 418 

Cafe  au  Lait 

485,  422 

Beef  Loaf 

375 

Cake,  An  Excellent  Cup 

• 

452 

Beef,  Pot-roast  of  . 

430 

Cake,  Cafe  au  Lait 

. 

396 

Beef,  Roast  a 1’ Orleans 

* 

330 

Cake,  Cocoanut 

• 

339 

Beef  Roast,  with  Yorkshire  Pudding  453 

Cakes,  Corn 

, 

• 

305 

Beef  Sausages  , 

. 

369 

Cake,  Cornmeal  Cup  . 

• 

292 

Beef  Scallop 

. 406 

Cake,  Creamed  Sponge 

• 

454 

Beefsteak  and  Onions 

. 

314 

Cake,  Huckleberry 

329 

Beefsteak,  Stewed 

. 414 

Cake,  Jelly  Roll  , 

. 

• 

402 

Beefsteak  with  Sherry  sauce  , 

251 

Cake,  Jelly  (warm)  , 

370 

Beef’s  Tongue,  fresh  au  gratin 

325 

Cake,  Lady  . 

• 

• 

261 

527 


HOUSE  AND  HOME 


528 


PAGE. 

PAGE. 

Cake,  Layer  Cocoanut 

375 

Corn,  Stew  of,  canned 

. 

476 

Cake,  Lemon 

362 

Crabs,  Deviled 

322 

Cake,  Light 

416 

Crackers  and  Cheese 

. 

. 3^2 

Cake,  Marmalade  . 

457 

Crackers,  Home-made 

291 

Cake,  Pink  and  White 

354 

Crackers,  Oatmeal 

, 

334 

Cake,  Sponge 

349.  412 

Crackers,  Toasted 

39  > 

Cakes,  Tea 

469 

Cream,  Rice 

. 

. 315,  420 

Cake,  Walnut 

480 

Cream,  Russian 

263 

Cake,  White 

289 

Cresses,  Water 

, 

254 

Calf’s  Head,  Baked 

476 

Croquettes,  Chicken  . 

291 

Cauliflower  au  gratin 

487 

Croquettes,  Hominy 

. 

487 

Cauliflower,  Baked 

367 

Croquettes,  Lobster 

347 

Cauliflower,  Cheese  Sauce 

303,  415 

Croquettes,  Potato 

. 

298,  367,  372 

Celery  au  gratin  . 

399 

Croquettes,  Veal  and  Ham 

411 

Celery,  Fried  . 

403 

Crullers 

. 

485 

Celery,  Stewed 

459 

Crumpets 

450 

Celery,  Stewed  Brown 

» 

372 

Cucumbers,  Fried 

. 

348 

Charlotte  a la  lioyale 

336 

Custard,  Burnt  . 

415 

Charlotte,  Apple 

429 

Custard,  Cocoanut 

. 

. 320,  448 

Charlotte,  Apple,  Baked  . 

440 

Custard,  Corn  Starch  . 

326 

Charlotte,  Myrtle’s 

427- 

Custard,  Sponge  Cake 

. 

. 482 

Cheese  Bars 

490 

Dinner-Pail,  The 

383,  388 

Cheese  Fingers 

• 

406 

Dinner,  The  Christmas 

. 

. 500,  509 

Chestnuts,  Boiled  . 

440 

Dinner,  The  Thanksgiving 

443,  448 

Chicken,  Boiled,  on  Rice 

• 

459 

Dodgers,  Cornmeal 

. 

259 

Chicken,  Broiled,  Deviled 

353 

Doughnuts 

406 

Chicken,  Broiling,  Fricasseed 

366 

Ducks,  Potted 

335 

Chicken,  Brown  Fricassee  of 

351 

Ducks,  Stewed 

492 

Chicken,  Curried 

319 

Dumplings,  Apple,  Baked 

466 

Chicken  Fricassee  Cach/ . 

297 

Eels,  Stewed,  a la  Francaise 

327 

Chicken,  Fried,  Whole 

346 

Eels,  Stewed 

. 

483 

Chicken,  Larded  . 

303 

Eggs,  Baked 

468 

Chicken  Legs,  Mince  of 

328 

Eggs,  Boiled 

. 

374 

Chicken  Steamed,  Stuffed 

4S1 

Eggs,  Creamed 

455 

Chocolate 

250 

Eggs,  Curried 

. 

295 

Chocolate,  Frothed 

328 

Eggs,  Deviled 

386 

Chowder,  Clam 

458 

Eggs,  Fricasseed 

. 

449 

Chowder,  Cod 

475 

Eggs  in  Toast  Cups 

285 

Chowder,  Lakewood  , 

345 

Eggs,  Meringued 

. 

266 

Chowder,  I^obster  . 

376 

Egg  Sauce 

268 

Clams,  Steamed 

306 

Eggs,  Scalloped 

. 

369 

Cocoa-theta 

267,  475 

Eggs,  Scrambled 

. 305 

Cod  and  Macaroni 

371 

Eggs,  Stewed 

. 

. 400 

Cod,  Boiled 

268 

Egg-Plant,  Stuffed 

. 

336 

Cod,  Glazed 

302 

Fish  Balls  . ; 

. 

461 

Coffee,  Meringued 

348 

Fish,  Blue,  Broiled 

. 

435 

Cookies 

464 

Fish  Cake,  Baked 

. 

304 

Corn,  Stewed  , , 

308 

Fish,  Rechauffe  of 

. 

311 

INDEX. 

529 

PAOE. 

PAGE. 

Pish,  White,  Fried 

, 

325 

Liver,  la  Jardiniere 

. 

371 

Flounders,  Cutlets,  Baked 

, 

397 

Liver  and  Bacon 

316 

Flapjacks  . 

. 

255 

Liver,  Brown  Stew  of 

300 

Fondu,  Cheese 

. 

496 

Liver,  Fried 

435 

Fondu,  Chicken  or  Veal  . 

. 

478 

Liver,  Larded 

262 

Fowl  Roast  a la  Guyoi 

. 

341 

Liver,  Ragout  of 

254 

Fritters,  Brain 

, 

478 

Lobster,  Buttered  . 

430 

Fritters,  Clam  . 

• 

438 

Lobster,  Creamed 

414 

Fritters,  Corn 

. 

354 

Lobster,  Curried  . , 

333 

Fritters,  Oyster- Plant . 

481 

Lobster,  Stewed 

390 

Fritters,  Sponge  Cake 

. 

418 

Macaroni,  Spaghetti,  Baked 

269 

Fruit  . . 

. 

279 

394 

Macaroni,  Stewed 

258 

Galantine  . . 

, 

271 

Mackerel,  Fresh  , 

270 

Gems,  Egg 

. 

300,  390 

Mackerel,  Salt  with  White  Sauce 

494 

Gems 

. 

484 

Mayonnaise  Dressing 

474 

Gingerbread,  Oatmeal 

. 

474 

Melons  .... 

343 

Gingerbread,  Prudence’s,  without  Eggs  266 

Milk,  Thickened  . 

• 

424 

Gingerbread,  Soft 

. 

302 

434 

Muffins,  Aunt  Chloe’s . 

290 

Gingerbread,  Soft  Raisin  . 

. 

491 

Muffins,  Bread  and  Milk  . 

• 

348 

Gingerbread,  Warm  . 

. 

360 

Muffins,  Brown. 

456 

Griddle  Cakes,  Barbara’s  . 

. 

395 

Muffins,  Corn  Meal 

• 

316 

Griddle  Cakes,  Corn  . 

. 

364 

Muffins,  English 

472 

Griddle  Cakes,  Crumb 

. 

422 

Muffins,  Mamma’s 

342 

Griddle  Cakes,  Farina 

, 

270 

Muffins,  Raised,  without  eggs 

369 

Griddle  Cakes,  Flannel,  without 

Eggs 

405 

Muffins,  Rice 

265 

Griddle  Cakes,  Oatmeal  . 

. 

478 

Muffins,  Risen  . 

400,  462 

Gruel,  Farina  . 

. 

358 

Muffins,  Rye 

332 

Gruel,  Oatmeal 

255 

Mush,  Fried 

455 

Haggis,  Dundee 

. 

420 

Mush,  Golden 

488 

Halibut,  Baked 

• 

486 

Mutton  and  Macaroni 

419 

Halibut,  Steaks 

465 

Mutton  Chops 

389 

Halibut,  Stuffed 

, 

318 

Mutton  Chops,  Baked 

268 

Ham  and  Eggs,  Mince  of 

. 

321 

Mutton  Chops,  Stewed 

361 

Ham,  Barbecued  . 

. 

456 

Mutton,  How  to  Use  the  Last  of  That  490 

Ham,  Deviled  . 

. 

439 

Mutton,  Leg  of.  Larded  . 

257 

Ham,  Fried  in  Batter 

t 

363 

Mutton,  Leg  of,  with  Caper  Sauce 

268 

Hen’s  Nest,  Winter  A . 

. 

488 

Mutton,  Ragout  of 

487 

Herrings,  Scotch  . 

417 

Omelette,  Baked  with  Herbs 

317 

Hominy,  Boiled  with  Milk 

. 

455 

Omelette,  Codfish  . 

467 

Hominy,  Coarse  . 

. 

247 

Omelette,  Oyster 

309 

Ice  Cream,  Banana 

, 

331 

Omelette,  Roe 

249 

Ice  Cream,  Crushed  Strawberry 

. 

289 

Omelette,  Sweet  A 

323 

Ice  Cream,  Peach 

, 

362 

Omelettes,  Tom  Thumb  . 

332 

Jelly,  Coffee . 

, 

460 

Onions,  Bermudas,  Stuffed  . 

298 

Junket  . 

. 

334 

Onions,  Creamed  . 

• 

392 

Kidneys  and  Ham . 

. 

405 

Onions,  Young 

274 

Kidneys,  Deviled 

. 

342 

Oranges 

• 

421 

I^emonade  . . • 

• 

350 

Oranges  and  Sugar  . 

297 

530  HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


PAGB. 

rAom. 

Oy&t^rs  au  gratin 

356 

Potatoes  a la  Parisicnnr  . 

353 

Oysters,  Deviled  . 

407 

Potatoes  and  Corn,  Minced  . 

401 

Oysters  in  Bed 

396 

Potatoes  au  Geneve 

326 

Oysters  on  Toast  . 

451 

Potatoes  au  Mailred' hotel  . 

489 

Oyster-plant,  Fried 

398 

Potatoes  au  Milan 

498 

Oyster-plant,  Stewed 

466 

Potatoes,  Baked 

300,  395,  457 

Oysters,  Scalloped 

492 

Potato  Balls 

484 

Oysters,  Scalloped,  with  Mushrooms 

401 

Potatoes,  Browned 

260, 363 

Pan-cakes,  (sugared)  . 

428 

Potatoes,  Buttered  * 

332 

Parsnips,  Fried .... 

408 

Potato  Cakes  au  gratin 

423 

Pates  de  veau  .... 

339 

Potatoes,  Chopped 

338,  359»  433 

Pates,  Lobster. 

329 

Potatoes,  Dressed 

. 282 

Peaches  and  Whipped  Cream 

347 

Potato,  drop  cakes  of 

417 

Peas,  Canned  .... 

493 

Potatoes,  Fried 

265 

Peas,  Green 

258 

Potato  Fritters 

346 

Pea  Pancakes  .... 

431 

Potatoes,  Glazed 

492 

Pickerel,  Baked  . 

361 

Potatoes,  Hashed 

418 

Pie,  Curried  Chicken 

403 

Potatoes,  Hashed,  Browned 

. 261 

Pie,  Sweet  Potato 

404 

Potato  Hillocks 

376 

Pie,  Veal  and  Ham 

435 

Potatoes  in  Cases  . 

415 

Pigeons  Stewed  .... 

356 

Potato  loaves  . 

468 

Pigs’  Feet,  Breaded 

248 

Potatoes,  Lyonnaise 

411 

Pigs’  Feet,  Fried 

396 

Potatoes,  Minced 

272 

Pike,  Larded 

470 

Potatoes,  Mold  of  . 

477 

Pine-Apple,  Sliced,  with  Wine  . 

326 

Potatoes,  Mont  Blanc 

454 

Plague  of  Flies 

378,  382 

Potatoes,  New 

330 

Pop-overs 

277, 

, 285 

Potato-Puff 

439.  466 

Pork  chops,  (with  tomato  sauce) 

421 

Potato  Rolls 

247 

Porridge,  Arrowroot 

352 

Potatoes,  Saratoga 

391 

Porridge,  Browned  Rice 

449 

Potatoes,  Savory  . 

327 

Porridge,  English  Oatmeal 

368 

Potato  Souffle 

43L  471 

Porridge,  Farina 

494 

Potatoes,  Stewed  . 

249,  310,  495 

Porridge,  Graham 

264 

Potatoes,  Stewed  Whole 

473 

Porridge,  Graham  Flakes  . 

280 

Potatoes,  Sweet,  au  gratin 

436 

Porridge,  Green  Corn 

342 

Potatoes,  Sweet,  Baked 

412 

Porridge,  Hominy 

461 

Potatoes,  Sweet,  Browned 

308 

Porridge,  Imperial  Granum  253,  275,  400 

Potatoes,  Sweet,  Fried 

370 

Porridge,  Milk  . 

299 

Potatoes,  Sweet,  Stewed 

438 

Porridge,  Milk  and  Rice  . 

290 

Preserves,  Mock  East  India 

463 

Porridge,  Molded 

337 

Pudding,  Amber  . 

431 

Porridge,  Mush  and  Milk 

309,  427 

Pudding,  Batter 

308,  393 

Porridge,  Mush-milk  . 

331 

Pudding,  Belle’s  Bright  Thought  274 

Porridge,  Oatmeal  . 

409 

Pudding,  Boiled  Indian 

422,  477 

Porridge,  Oatmeal  (cold) 

315 

Pudding,  Canned  Corn 

263 

Porridge,  Rice 

483 

Pudding,  Corn  Starch,  Hasty 

282 

Porridge,  Rye  . 

404 

Pudding,  Cup,  Plum 

409 

Porridge,  Wheat  Germ  Meal 

253.  275 

Pudding,  Fatima’s 

303 

Potatoes  ()  la  Napoli taine 

335 

Pudding,  Graham  Fruit  . 

498 

INDEX. 

531 

PAGB. 

PAGB. 

Oraziella 

• 

284 

Salmon,  Smoked,  Broiled 

301 

Pudding,  Hedgehog 

• 

372 

Sandwiches,  Bacon  and  Mutton  . 

386 

Pudding,  Huckleberry 

. 

352 

Sandwiches,  Cheese  and  Egg 

385 

Pudding,  Indian  Meal 

. 

377 

Sandwiches,  Chicken 

339 

Pudding,  Italian,  Rice 

. 

428 

Sandwiches,  Cracker  and  Anchovy 

386 

Pudding,  Marie’s  . 

. 

399 

Sandwiches,  Ham 

385 

Pudding,  Marmalade  . 

. 

279 

Sandwiches,  Sardine  . 

385 

Pudding,  Orange  . 

. 

269 

Sardines  on  Toast  , 

375 

Pudding,  Peach 

. 

367 

Sauce,  Apple  . 

412 

Puddings,  Queen  of 

. 

341 

Sauce,  Brandy 

466 

Pudding,  Rice  and  Peach 

. 

436 

Sauce,  Cranberry  . . 

426 

Pudding,  Suet 

. 

493 

Sauce,  Hard  . . • 

499 

Pudding,  Suet  and  Sago 

. 

252 

Sauce,  Hasty  Pudding  * 

i82 

Rabbits,  Deviled  . 

. 

410 

Sauce,  Jelly 

493 

Rabbits,  Roasted 

497 

Sauce,  Liquid  . 

399 

Radishes  ... 

. 

256 

Sauce,  Neapolitaine 

253 

Rarebit,  Ham  . 

354 

Sauce,  Peach  . 

368 

Rarebit,  Welsh 

• 

266 

Sauce,  Tomato 

429 

Rarebit,  Welsh  (cold)  . 

. 

323 

Sausages 

427 

Rice  and  Brains 

. 

286 

Sausages,  Home-made 

433 

Rice  and  Tomato 

284 

Scalloped  Cabbage 

426 

Rice,  Boiled 

. 

319 

Scalloped  Codfish,  with  Cheese 

337 

Rice,  Pilau  of  . 

. 

296 

Scalloped  Codfish,  with  Mushrooms 

343 

Rissoles 

. 

359 

Scalloped  Cod,  Salmon  or  Halibut 

261 

Roley-poley,  Baked 

. 

471 

Scalloped  Corn  and  Tomato  , 

357 

Rolls,  French 

. 

322 

Scalloped  Fish 

276 

Rusk 

. 

312, 

, 360 

Scalloped  Potato 

349 

Rusk,  Dried,  and  Milk 

344 

Scallops,  Breaded  . 

416 

Salad,  Cabbage  with  Boiled 

Dressing 

317 

Scallops,  Clam. 

255 

Salad,  Celery  and  Sardine 

• 

433 

Scallops,  Fried 

340 

Salad,  Chicken . 

. 

386 

Scones,  Oatmeal 

301 

Salad,  Cress 

272 

Scones,  White 

432 

Salad,  Cucumber 

. 

359 

Sea-Kale 

453 

Salad,  Egg  and  Sardine  Mayonnaise 

351 

Shad  au  gratin  • 

290 

Salad,  Eettuce  . 

. 

292,  460 

Shad,  Baked  • 

251 

Salad,  Lobster,  Cream  Mayonnaise 

288 

Shad,  Baked,  with  Wine  Sauce. 

257 

Salad,  Oyster  . 

. 

425 

Shad,  Broiled  • 

275 

Salad,  Potato 

. 365,  485 

Shad,  Fried,  with  sauce  Piquant^ 

313 

Salad,  Raw  Tomato  . 

. 

344 

Short  Cake,  Melissa’s  . 

276 

Salad,  Shrimp 

. 328,  473 

Short  Cake,  Peach 

417 

Salad,  Shrimp  and  Cheese 

336 

Short  Cake,  Strawberry 

258 

Salgid,  String  Bean 

. 

306 

Snipe,  Mock 

295 

Salad,  Sweetbread 

. 

301 

Soup,  Asparagus 

372 

Salad,  Tomato 

. 

339 

Soup,  Baked 

355 

Salad,  Tomato  and  Lettuce 

. 

287 

Soup,  Barley 

430 

Salmon  au  Janot  . 

. 

423 

Soup,  Beef  and  Sago 

371 

Salmon  Fingers 

. 

281 

Soup,  Black  Bean 

313 

Salmon  Pudding,  with  Lemon  Sauce 

497 

Soup,  Brown  Potato  , • 

256 

532 


HOUSE  AND  HOME. 


Soup,  Calf’s  Head 

PAOR. 

464 

Sweetbreads,  Roast 

PAOR. 

. 283 

Soup,  Calf’s  Feet  with  Poaclied  Eggs  335 

Sweetbreads,  Roast,  with  ] 

Pros  273 

Soup,  Canned  Pea 

. 

318 

Tea,  Iced 

323 

Soup,  Catfish 

. 

. 262 

Terrapin,  Imitation 

. 278 

Soup,  Chicken  and  Sago 

. 

419 

Toast,  anchovy  with  Egg  Sauce  484 

Soup,  Clam. 

. 

288 

Toast,  and  Rice,  Curry  of 

441 

Soup,  Clear 

. 

413 

Toast,  Bread 

. 306 

Soup,  Corn  . 

. 

. 267 

Toast,  Buttered 

. 248 

Soup,  Cream 

. 

302 

Toast,  Cream  . 

. 457 

Soup,  Curry  Rice  . 

. 

361 

Toast,  Lemon  Cream 

365 

Soup,  Farina  . 

. 

486 

Toast,  Scalloped 

. 49c 

Soup,  Giblet 

. 

452 

Toast,  Tomato 

. 311 

Soup,  Green  Pea 

, 

340 

Tomatoes  and  Corn  . 

393 

Soup,  Lima  Bean  . 

. 

. 402 

Tomatoes,  Deviled 

• 396 

Soup,  Mock  Turtle 

. 

324 

Tomatoes,  Scalloped  . 

463 

Soup,  Mulligatawny 

. 

277 

Tomatoes,  Stewed 

263,  377.  471 

Soup,  Potato  . 

. 

480 

Tomatoes,  Stuffed 

351 

Soup,  Potato,  purc'e 

. 

469 

Tongue,  BeePs, 

. 465 

Soup,  pur(^e  maigre 

. 

250 

Tongue,  BeePs,  Browned 

. 441 

Soup,  Rabbit  . 

. 

424,  440 

Tongue,  Larded 

398 

Soup,  Russian 

. 

497 

Tongue,  Deviled 

. 256 

Soup,  Tomato  . 

. 

329 

Tongue,  Jellied 

451 

Soup,  Turnip,  maigre 

. 

407 

Tongues,  Lambs’,  Pickled 

333 

Soup,  Turnip  puree 

. 

392 

Tongues,  Sheeps’,  Stewed 

. 358 

Soup,  Turnip  pxir^e  (without  Meat)  397 

Trifle,  Chocolate 

299 

Soup,  Vegetable 

. 

434 

Trifle,  Strawberry 

294 

Soup,  Vegetable,  Family 

. 

491 

Tripe,  Fried  . • . 

. 264, 468 

Soup,  White 

. 

293 

Turkey,  Steamed  . 

425 

Spinach,  aunaturel 

. 

252 

Turnips,  Creamed 

470 

Spinach,  on  Toast 

. 

314,  408,  419 

Turnips,  with  White  Sauce 

342 

Squash,  Scalloped 

. 

. 435,  482 

Veal  and  Ham  Cutlets 

470 

Squash,  Stewed 

. 

426 

Veal  and  Macaroni,  Scalloped  * 495 

Squash,  Summer  . 

. 

347 

Veal  Braised 

37s 

Strawberries 

, 

255,  286 

Wafiles 

• 32^.374 

Succotash,  . 

, 

. 278 

Wafiies,  Farina 

327 

Sweetbreads,  Ragout  of 

• 

349 

WafiSes,  Rice  . • 

364 

Pickles,  Chow 

Chow,  etc. 

. . . 

511 

Fruit  Jellies 

. 

517 

Preserves,  Jams  and 

Marmalades 

. 

520 

A F'ew  Dishes 

for  the  Invalid 

. 0 . 

525 

THE  END. 


